This is a story about a love between two teenage boys and how it developed into manhood. The usual disclaimers apply: If you are under the age of 18, or reading such material is illegal in your jurisdiction, then please leave this story unread now. There are within the story explicit descriptions of sex between boys, but that is not the main theme; so if your thing is reading stories that are purely sex in nature then this story will probably not be to your liking.
The story is made up of both fact and fantasy. The people herein are real, but their names have been changed. The rest of the story, as I said, is a mixture of fact and fantasy, but frankly there is a lot more fact than I had originally planned.
Kenny-16: OH, SHIT!
Have you ever done something, I mean something really important, and realized a short time later that you've screwed up, and bad? I don't mean things like answering a question incorrectly in class when you know the correct answer, I mean BIG things, like hanging by a rope 10 stories up and cutting the rope. Like driving a car at high speed on a frozen lake only to drive around a point of land and finding yourself heading directly for open water. I've done it many times, and I suspect most people have at one time or another in their lives. I call these mistakes "Oh Shit" incidents. I think I did a major "Oh Shit" in 1963; one that would once more change my life forever. I got married!
My marriage to Cathy was to take place in September. I had limited time, so we had arranged that we would do it all in the space of a week. I arrived from Montreal on Monday night. Cathy and I met for dinner where we went over the final plans. Tuesday night there was a bridal shower for Cathy, so I had the night off. Time to negotiate with the Collins family.
"No, Charlie!" Mom Collins said emphatically, "You simply cannot do that! It just wouldn't be right!" I had just proposed to her that she and Robbie be my family, not my father. My sister was out of the country and couldn't get here, Uncle Brad had sold the farm and was opening a new General Store, which only left my father and one of his sisters I hardly knew.
"But Mom," I insisted, "You're my family now! You're the one I stay with when I'm in town, and you've always said I was like a son."
"I know that, Charlie," she agreed, "But you do have a father, and if you ever hope to reconcile with him you have to make an effort."
"But I don't care any more! I just don't care!"
"Well I do! He's still your father, and I won't be the one to get in the way of your hopefully getting back together with him. We'll be at the wedding, you couldn't keep us away! But we'll be there as your guests, not as family."
So that was that! I knew better than to argue, so I just left. I was feeling just a little rejected by the whole family, especially by Kenny. He wasn't coming at all, and none of his family would do more than attend. Now I had to find a Best Man, which was when I learned how few friends I had in town. Dave had joined the army, Jack had disappeared, not that I'd want him anyway. I had a cousin David who had agreed to be an usher, but there seemed to be no one who I really wanted for the task. I ended up calling a very old high school friend who was going with one of Cathy's classmates, and he agreed. John was an ok guy, but I had never known him very well, but he was gracious enough to get me out of my mess.
Wednesday night was wedding rehearsal night. The entire wedding party arrived at the church, a small church on the edge of town where Cathy's family attended. We went through the motions, were told what to expect and what would be happening, then all went back to Cathy's parents for tea and coffee. I was welcomed into Cathy's family with open arms. They gushed and cooed over me until I wanted to scream! But at least they were friendly and were giving their blessing. I found myself wondering what they would've thought if they'd known all there was to know about my history.
Thursday night Cathy had a graduation rehearsal, so I tagged along because I had nothing better to do. I sat in the empty auditorium watching the proceedings, thinking about where my life was going. One minute I pictured myself as the knight on the white stallion, the Prince Charming, having swooped down from Indiana, New York, Montreal, to take my princess away from all her misery. And precisely what misery was that I was taking her away from? The next minute I felt like I was in a swift moving river swimming upstream, being swept along helplessly by the current. Swift moving stream? Damn! I suddenly thought of the cabin where Kenny and I had been so happy. I wondered if the old man who ran the place was still there. Somehow I doubted it. When I'd gone back to St. Luke's I'd found just about everyone I knew there was gone. The organ was being played by an older lady I didn't know, Mrs. Atkins had retired and moved out west with her son. Even John Whittaker was nowhere to be found. So why would I expect the old man with the cabins to still be where I'd left him so long ago? I was glad I was sitting so far back as the graduation class did their thing, because I didn't want Cathy to see the tears in my eyes.
Friday night early was the graduation, followed the same evening by the graduation dance. They didn't call it a prom for reasons I'll never know. It was a busy evening and a lot of fun. All of Cathy's classmates were there, some of them with dates I'd gone to school with. Some of them even knew I'd been going with Kenny, but no one said anything. I could just imagine what they said to each other. We left the dance at 1 AM to get our tails to bed. The wedding was Saturday at 2.
We were about halfway through the ceremony when the "Oh Shit" syndrome hit me. Up to that point the knight in shining armor was winning over the guy in the water, but then it hit me: the sheer finality of what I was doing! I wanted to run! Drop dead! Anything! But then I heard myself being invited to turn and face the congregation, then being presented as one half of the newly married couple.
Every one knows what happens on the wedding night. We got away at about 6 PM and drove about 100 miles. Our plan was to just drive around eastern Canada for a few days - we only had a week and not much money, then I had to be back in Montreal for work. Once we left on the honeymoon Cathy suggested "We've got a whole lifetime, Charlie, and I'm so tired, would you mind if we didn't... you know..."
Mind! Damn, it was like a dream come true! I was so afraid when the time came that I couldn't perform, I welcomed the postponement! I was scared to death! I had never even come close to intimacy with a girl before, and I was not looking forward to it. On the other hand, I was really curious what it was like. I agreed readily to her proposal, but then nature took over. We had just got into bed and turned to kiss good-night when the hormones kicked in. We made passionate love, and to my surprise everything worked fine. I must admit it was great!
Married life wasn't too bad, really. In fact I rather enjoyed it, especially since Kenny and I were having less and less contact. It felt really good to be totally open, "normal" in every way. No one asked about our sexual life because everyone knew, or at least assumed. We tried to get friendly with Kenny and Judy, but she would have none of it. Cathy kept asking me what in the world her problem was, and I could only shrug that I guessed she was jealous of what we'd had, what we'd been. "I don't think she's doing it right," Cathy observed, "I don't think that's the way to do it."
"So what is the right way?" I asked angrily.
"Charlie," she said with surprise, "Please don't let's fight. I just think it's kinda up to me to show you that I can be a good lover too, not to put you in a cage. You can't change what you are or what you've been, you didn't mislead me, so I've come into this with my eyes wide open and I'm determined to make it work! And with your mind I know better than to try to force you to do anything!"
By the third week in October, Kenny and I had only spoken twice since my marriage. I was somewhat surprised when the phone rang in my office and I heard his voice. "How's it going, Charlie?" he asked. To me his voice didn't have the same sparkle it used to have. I remembered the day in the cafeteria when I'd thought his eyes looked pretty lifeless.
"I'm going ok, Kenny. Damn, it's good to hear from you!"
"Yeah, I know," he said, "It's been too long. You and Cathy adjusting all right?"
"No problem, we're an old married couple now. How about you?"
"Well," he said slowly, "We've had a few problems but we're ok now. Judy's job didn't work out so well so she quit. Charlie, we... uh... we're moving to Toronto."
"Toronto?" I echoed, "Transferred?"
"Nope," he answered, "Another job change. I've been offered a real great job with Murray Consulting. I'll be working with their clients designing phone and data networks. It sounds like a lot of fun and the money is really good."
"When are you moving?"
"We're going tomorrow to try and find a place to live, then I'll be back for work next week and then we're gone for good."
"Damn!" I exclaimed, "That's awful sudden. Am I gonna get to see you before you go?"
"Sure hope so Charlie. I've missed you. Maybe we can have dinner some evening next week?"
"Why don't you come home with me? Cathy would love to see you and Judy."
"Judy won't be with me, Charlie. She's staying in Toronto when we leave tomorrow. And I don't know about going home with you... I... well, I just don't know if I'm ready for that."
The tone of his voice told me that Kenny was not prepared to negotiate, and I didn't want to jeopardize not seeing him at all, so I agreed to meet him at the restaurant in the Queen Elizabeth Hotel next Tuesday, and we hung up.
Tuesday evening I was in the restaurant waiting at 5 PM, even though our agreed time wasn't till 6:30. I was as nervous as a teenager on his first date. Why? I thought, Kenny and I go back 11 years! Why am I so damned nervous? I knew the answer even if I didn't admit it to myself. I was afraid I'd jump his bones right there in the restaurant.
When Kenny finally showed up at 6:20, I was truly shocked! He looked so much older, so much more... well, it just wasn't my Kenny. We shook hands, and then we hugged warmly. That sort of thing just wasn't done in public in 1963, but we did it anyway. "Kenny," I said after we'd sat down, "You don't look so good. Are you all right?"
"Fine, Charlie," he evaded, "Just tired. I've been working both jobs for a month now and traveling back and forth to Toronto... I'm just tired."
"You gotta take better care of yourself," I lectured, and then I felt the tears welling up. How many times in the past 11 years had he given me that same advice? And then our eyes locked. Man, what was it about those eyes?
"Things aren't going well are they Kenny?" I told more than asked.
"They're gonna get better now," he answered, "Judy doesn't like Montreal, can't deal with all the French language, gets nervous by all the political unrest... Toronto is a good move for us. Except I won't be seeing you any more."
"You didn't see me anyway," I reminded him. "But I go to Toronto quite often, so maybe we'll get to visit from time to time."
"Not gonna happen, Charlie," he said. I could see definite signs that his eyes were also filling with tears. "Judy doesn't want you around at all. She's just so afraid that we'll... well... that we'll get back together again. Right now she thinks I'm working late. I've done that so much lately I can get away with it."
We had a fairly pleasant meal after that, even laughed a little at some of the memories we shared. It was after 11 before we left the restaurant, both of us not wanting to leave at all. I don't think it would have taken much talking to persuade Kenny to just take a room in the hotel and spend the night, but we both knew that would be pure trouble, so the subject never came up. We hugged again as my bus arrived, and then I was looking through a dirty bus window at Kenny standing on the sidewalk. I wanted to jump off the bus and whisk him away, maybe back to Indiana; but of course I didn't.
The next big event in my life came less than a month later. I was sitting in my office, working away at some technical report, when I heard a deathly silence in the building. Have you ever 'heard' a silence? Believe me it's an ominous experience. I walked out to see what was (or wasn't) going on. People were in small groups, talking in hushed tones. The look on their faces was pure shock. "What's going on?" I asked in a too-loud, too- cheerful tone.
"You haven't heard?" one of the secretaries said, "President Kennedy's just been shot!
To this day I don't know why it hit me so hard! That was in another country! Why should I care? He wasn't our president! But it did. Perhaps it was just the shock that a thing like this could happen in our enlightened society. Perhaps it was a flashback for me when I'd lived in the US, felt that in some ways I actually knew the man! He was Catholic, a no-no; I was Gay, also a no-no. I don't know, but that news bulletin knocked me like a ton of bricks.
It was some time in the afternoon, not even close to quitting time, but I quit anyway and headed home. Cathy was waiting for me as usual, with her usual smile and the smells of dinner cooking. She was working at the Montreal General Hospital, but she still managed to be home and have dinner cooking when I got home. I ignored her and walked straight to the TV, turned it on and sat with my eyes glued to the screen.
By 7:00 that evening there was a bulletin that John Kennedy was indeed dead. I totally lost it! I buried my face in Cathy's bosom and I cried. I think I cried harder than I'd ever cried before! She didn't question it, didn't ask the reason, she just held me like the small boy that I was just then, and she comforted me. I don't know how long I lay there, soaking up all the comfort I could get. By the time I started to recover it was bedtime; so we got up and went to bed. There I cried again, then we made love, then I cried again.
I spent a lot of time thinking about that incident. I was supposed to be the knight in shining armor. I was the hero that had taken my princess away from her miserable life, right?
NOT!
I realized with no small amount of shock that... that I had married my mother! I was a little boy, and I finally had my mother back! I don't think I ever loved Cathy more than I did at the moment I realized my real relationship with her. She wasn't my wife at all that night, she was my mother! She recognized it, but I hadn't; not until I had analyzed it anyway. But then she had always been more sensitive to my needs than I was. Had her training as a nurse made her this way? Probably it had a part; but mostly I think that's just the kind of person she was.
The question was, what do we do now? The answer was obvious, even if it did take me a while to figure it out. What we would do was nothing at all! Or better still, we would recognize our new relationship for what it was and go on from there. And that's precisely what we did.
Things were better for me after my amazing discovery. Over time I developed the knack of being a husband when it was appropriate, becoming a little boy when I needed to be. Cathy and I never discussed it, there was no need; she simply learned to lean on me when she needed to and responded to my needs when necessary. She was something else, Cathy was!
I talked to Kenny on the phone quite often during that Winter. Being a Bell employee, I had free telephone and long distance which I took full advantage of. He seemed in better spirits, more able to deal with whatever was going on in his life; but I longed to see him and I knew he felt the same. He told me that things had indeed got better with Judy, but she was still adamant that Kenny and I should not have any physical contact. That wasn't a big problem; we were 350 miles apart and both extremely busy. I had frequent trips to Toronto, but after trying several times unsuccessfully to have a meeting, I more or less gave up.
In the spring of 1964 I was informed that my job would be changing in the next 6 to 9 months. It seemed that Bell had a company policy that all their young professionals were expected to spend a two year stint in all of the various aspects of the company. My next assignment was to be in outside plant engineering, meaning I was to be designing and planning transmission lines, cable runs, and possibly microwave antenna systems. I pointed out that my chosen career was in the field of computers and that I had no desire nor intention to change that choice, but it made no difference, so I again started mailing resume's.
When I left IBM in Poughkeepsie they had told me that I should keep in touch. I didn't, but when I started job hunting IBM Canada was one of the first places I applied. As luck would have it, they were in process of opening a Product Test lab in Toronto, similar to the one I'd worked in for a year and a half. To make a long story short, Cathy and I moved to Toronto in the summer of 1964. I would be lying if I tried to say the only reason I moved to Toronto was the job. I was as excited as a schoolboy at the prospect of seeing Kenny again. Little did I know how much pressure I was putting on him.
"How long have you been here?" Kenny asked excitedly when I called.
"About a month," I answered, "And I really need to see you, Kenny. Can you get away?"
"Get away nothing!" he replied, "You and Cathy have to come to dinner this Friday night. And don't make any plans for the weekend, ok? I've got a surprise for you."
"A surprise? What kinda surprise?"
"If I told you," he laughed, "It wouldn't be a surprise, would it?"
"What about Judy? Is she ok with us seeing each other?"
"She'll be fine, Charlie. You guys just be there, ok?"
I said that we would, he gave me directions, we chatted for about an hour bringing each other up to date, and then we hung up. I had four days to wonder what he had that would surprise me and make him so excited. Cathy quizzed me endlessly, but I had to admit I had got nothing on the phone that would serve as the slightest clue as to what was going on. It took what seemed like eight months, but Friday night finally arrived.
When we rang the doorbell of Kenny's house, we were met not by Kenny, not Judy, but Mom Collins! I immediately dissolved into tears! Man, it was good to see her! "Come on in!" she exclaimed warmly, then hugged us both warmly. When I finally opened my eyes and pulled myself free from her embrace, I found myself looking over Mom's shoulders directly into the eyes of the most beautiful creature on the face of the earth. "Kenny!" I exclaimed, "Oh God, Kenny!" We melted into each other's arms and both cried like babies. I knew Judy had to be there somewhere, but at that moment it didn't matter. As we embraced I could feel Cathy's hands, then Mom's, on my shoulders and back. It had been so long... too long!
I might have known it would take Mom Collins to sort things out. As the evening progressed I learned that Judy hadn't changed her stance, but Mom had given it to her straight as she always did. "Those two boys have loved each other for a long time," she had lectured, "And I have never known them to be dishonorable. They have honored your wishes for a year now and have been absolutely miserable, and all they want to do is be friends and have their wives be friends too. It's time for you to grow up, Judy! And if it'll make you feel any better, then just consider Charlie and Cathy's coming to see me, not you and Kenny!" Judy made it very clear to us that as far as she was concerned we still weren't welcome, but that night she had been outvoted. Before we left she was, well, maybe not warm, but not frigid either. And I felt a whole lot better.
By March Cathy announced that she was pregnant. We had been beginning to think something may be wrong, because nothing had happened in spite of our lack of birth control. When it did happen I was instantly on the phone to Kenny. I had seen him about twice a month since our move to Toronto, but almost always just him and me over a meal. As soon as we were seated and served our drinks, I bubbled out the news.
"That's great, Charlie!" he said enthusiastically, "When is she due?"
"September, I think," I answered. And then I saw the eyes again. "Something's wrong!" I said without thinking, "What is it, Kenny?"
"What makes you think something's wrong?" he evaded.
"Twelve years of looking into your eyes, that's what! Now out with it!"
"Judy's leaving me!" he confided. "Turns out I'm sterile, and she says it's because I'm a queer and I've probably screwed up my reproductive system. For her it was the last straw."
"That's fucking ridiculous!" I spat at him. "Surely she'll realize she's wrong when you tell her Cathy's expecting. Unless she's forgotten, I'm pretty queer too."
"Of course I'll try it," he answered, "But I doubt that it'll make a difference. She just can't get over the whole idea that we've been together as lovers."
"I'm sorry, Kenny," I said, "If I'd known..."
"If either of us had known," he interrupted, "Maybe things'd be different. But we didn't, Charlie. We just didn't know. I made a terrible mistake two years ago, and now I'm gonna have to live with it."
"We both made a big mistake," I heard myself saying, "But I don't see any way out of it now. If I had my way..."
"Don't say it, Charlie! Please, just don't say it!"
Before we knew it Cathy was in labor. I had attended all the prenatal classes with her, had even watched some videos of actual births. My intention was to be with her the whole time, including the delivery. In 1965 that sort of thing was unheard of, as was "natural birth"... childbirth without drugs. We might have been well advised to wait for the second child before trying this, because Cathy had a very long labor - over 24 hours! But she managed, with Kenny in the waiting room and me in the labor room. My job was to do whatever I could to keep her comfortable, time the contractions and report to the nurses whenever they dropped in. At first the nurses barely tolerated me, their attitude being that fathers belonged in the waiting room where they wouldn't get in the way when they panicked, went mushy, fainted, whatever; but as the time went on they realized that I had been well prepared by our doctor, could actually be a resource for them, and they used that resource to all our benefit.
Stephanie was born at about 6:30 in the morning. I watched completely mesmerized as the little body emerged, emitted a soft cry, then went silent. The doctor handed her to a nurse who put drops in her eyes, then handed her to me. ME! Not her mom, ME! I was so shocked I almost fainted, but then I couldn't do that, could I? Not with this little miracle in my arms. I had just made history: I was the first father ever to be present in the delivery room of the Grace Maternity Hospital in Toronto! Since then there have been many, but I have often wondered how long it was before the not-so-well-known record of the first GAY father was broken.
When I got back to the waiting room to report to Kenny, he saw a very pale young man, still wearing OR scrubs, with tears streaming down his face. I had been totally awed by the whole experience. Without saying a word I reached out and hugged him tightly and just sobbed! Kenny, seeing me in that state, instantly came to the wrong conclusion.
"Oh my God," Kenny said in alarm, "What, Charlie? What's happened? What's wrong?"
Only when I heard the panic in his voice did I know what I'd done to him. I quickly tried to recover. "Nothing's wrong, Kenny," I whispered, "Everything's right. We've got the most beautiful baby girl in the world! She's perfect, Kenny. You should see her tiny little fingernails!"
Fingernails? Why I don't know, but as they had taken the baby from me and laid her in the tiny basinet they had there, I noticed two things: he wide open blue eyes, and the perfectly formed fingernails. I never dreamed they could be so small, yet all there in one piece!
It was only a week or so after the baby was born when Kenny had to go to court for the final proclamation of his divorce. He had taken it pretty hard, and I was helpless to do anything to ease the pain. He had reason to believe that Judy had hired a private detective in hopes of catching Kenny and me in some kind of compromising position, so we had to be even more careful about what we did and where we were seen together. I inundated Kenny with apologies, reasoning that it had been our move to Toronto that had caused the whole thing. "That's silly, Charlie," he answered, "She just wanted out, and if she could catch me fooling around, especially with another man, she could really take me to the cleaners." But her detectives served only to cost her a lot of money, and reported no wrongdoing on Kenny's part. Shit, I thought, I could've told them that in the first place and saved everyone a lot of trouble.
In the weeks that followed, after the high of the baby being born, we settled into a sort of routine. Cathy had stopped work to stay home with the baby, and all went well for a while. Kenny was alone and on my mind. It occurred to me several times that now he was free and making it very clear he'd never get into that situation again, but still I didn't see much of him. "I just thought it'd be better if I didn't come around too often," he explained, "You've got a family now and you're trying to build a life. All I would do would be to keep things stirred up and in turmoil."
"Kenny," I pleaded, "I WANT my life stirred up if that's what you'd do! I don't want to forget you and I certainly don't want to lose you! Now Judy's gone and you've got nobody! I fucked up, Kenny! If only I'd waited. Maybe..."
"I told you, Charlie, I don't want to hear it! We fucked up big time, but I'm not gonna complicate it even more. And by the way, it's WE that fucked up, not YOU! So there's really nothing to discuss here. You've got a wonderful wife and a beautiful daughter, and your duty is with them! I'll be around because I can't help myself, but I'm not gonna get in the way." So I started getting more and more depressed. The more depressed I got, the harder I was to please.
"Charlie," Cathy said over dinner one night in late November, "What's wrong?"
"Wrong?" I asked innocently, "What makes you think something's wrong?"
"Well, for starters, that raging stud who wouldn't leave me alone for two days in a row hardly ever makes love to me any more. I don't get a kiss in the morning, you are always flying into a rage at the least little thing, you never sing around the house any more, you seem to have grown tired of holding the baby... that same baby you thought was such an incredible miracle only three months ago."
"Nothing's wrong, Cathy," I answered.
"It's Kenny, isn't it?"
"I'm just tired, Cathy. In case you haven't noticed I've been working pretty long hours."
"Yeah, I noticed. Are you really working, or are you..."
"Is this gonna turn into another accusation?" I bellowed, "Cause if it is I'm not gonna sit here and listen to it! I told you I would not fool around with Kenny and I meant it! But if you can't believe me then there's not much I can say is there? Or maybe you think..."
"That's not what I meant, Charlie. I just meant that maybe you're working overtime to avoid coming home. You're miserable, aren't you?"
Once more I had tried to defend myself by picking a fight, and Cathy had refused to fight, but showed understanding again. This scene had repeated many times, only this time I was in a particularly weak frame of mind, so I simply broke down. "I don't know what's wrong with me, Cathy," I bawled, "I love you and I adore Stephanie, but still I want more! I don't even know what I want!"
"Maybe you don't, but I do. You want Kenny, and I think you should have him."
I looked at her in shock. "Does that mean.... Uh... Cathy, are you asking me to leave? Cause if you are you can forget it. I'll never leave you! I vowed till death do us part and I meant it! My father did that the first time things got tough and I'll never forget how it ripped my heart right out of my chest! I'll never..."
"Will you please listen?" she interrupted, "I'm not suggesting anyone go anywhere! I think maybe we can work things out without anyone leaving."
I could not believe what I was hearing! "Cathy," I said, "Surely you don't mean... I mean... Kenny and me... that we have an affair?"
"That's exactly what I mean. I think we could..."
"But that's adultery! I couldn't do that!"
"Is it, Charlie? And if it's adultery, who is the adulterer? Can you honestly tell me that if it were legal for men to marry men, that you and Kenny wouldn't already be married before you met me?"
"I... I never thought about it. And besides, it doesn't matter now, I'm married to you and I take that seriously. I could never..."
"If you take it seriously, I mean REALLY seriously, you'd do anything to keep our marriage. The way we're going it's not going to last very long. I like Kenny a lot, and I don't think I would have any problem with him being around more. So if having him around means that our marriage will survive, I'm willing."
"I don't think I am," I said emphatically, "What you're suggesting is... is... downright sick! It's... it's bigamy!"
"Do you have a better idea?"
"Yes, I do. I just have to try harder to get over him. It's over and that's that!"
"But it's not over! And I don't think it ever will be! I'm not even sure I want it to be after hearing how happy you two were. I don't want to lose you, Charlie, but I don't want you to stay if you're gonna be miserable all your life. When you're like this you make everyone around you miserable."
"But Cathy, what you're suggesting..."
"What I'm suggesting is weird at best. But it's also a last ditch effort to save my marriage. The way we're going I don't see any hope. Maybe my suggestion will make it worse, but I don't think so. And I'm willing to take that chance. I love you, Charlie!"
"I love you too, Cathy. That's why I can't..."
"That's why you have to, Charlie! As your wife I have the right to expect you to do anything in your power to save what we have, even if it means doing something that society has decreed is unacceptable. Can you honestly tell me everything you and Kenny have done is acceptable in the eyes of society?"
"Well... uh..."
"I thought so. So why don't we just spend the evening making some ground rules? Then we can have Kenny over tomorrow evening and let him know what's up." To my utter shame, something was indeed UP! I was thankful it was under the table out of sight!
"Charlie," Kenny said doubtfully, "I don't know about this... It seems so... so..."
"Kinky?" I suggested. I had just walked into Kenny's house and given him a long, passionate kiss. My intention was to spend the night. It was Friday night and I wasn't expected home until Saturday night. The three of us had haggled out all the details of what was acceptable and what wasn't, and here I was, in the middle of December, looking to collect on our new agreement. I could not believe how wonderful it was to hold him again! He was as solid as ever, having spent many hours in the swimming pool and gym. But even more important, we were together again! The smell was the same and so was the taste. And the sparkle was back in his eyes!
The sex was pretty strained that night. We were unbelievably nervous, each unsure that we should be doing what we both wanted to do so badly. Kenny was as determined as I was to prevent trouble between Cathy and me, and we both knew it was an iffy proposition at best. After about three hours of efforts to rekindle the flame, we drifted off to sleep. Neither of us had reached an orgasm.
I awoke next morning at about 6:00 AM. In our sleep Kenny and I had moved around so that we were face to face, our arms around each other as our naked bodies touched from head to foot. Our legs were tangled together as if they were made of rubber. I was so overwhelmed with the feeling of peace and contentment I started to cry softly. How could I ever have wanted anything more than this? How could I....
Suddenly Kenny was awake and I was staring into those deep brown eyes. Oh God, those eyes! "Morning!" he said as his face broke into a smile, "You got any idea how great it feels to wake up in your arms?"
"Yeah," I said hoarsely, "I have a pretty good idea. I love you, Kenny."
"You're crying!" he said with concern. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing, Kenny," I replied as a fresh volley of tears assaulted my eyes, "I just... I dunno, I'm just so happy... you're so cool... I feel so... so..."
"Shut up and kiss me!" he ordered. I complied. One led to another until we had the most sensational sex we'd ever had! We finally got out of bed at 2 PM.
Cathy and I both made an important discovery after that first weekend, one that neither of us had expected. When I got home, my sexual appetite for her was ravenous! Her libido was from the very start about one tenth what mine was, but I had very quickly lost interest to the point that we still indulged, but it was more or less just something we did. After a weekend with Kenny, my lovemaking with Cathy had more meaning, more life! Sound crazy? Yes, I agree it does. But nonetheless it was true.
As time went on, Kenny and I spent more and more time together. He spent Christmas with us that year, and we worked together doing man things like maintenance on our houses, working on his car or mine, and fathering my daughter. I was "Daddy" and he was "Uncle Kenny." It was working! I sensed that Cathy objected to the idea at first, even though it had been her idea. But as time went on, as my spirits improved, we all came to the point where we believed it would actually work. It wasn't ideal by any means, but it was the best we could do. By the end of our first year as a three-some, we were all fairly comfortable with the arrangement.
Our second child was born in 1967, a boy we called Kenny. Well, actually Li'l Kenny. The third, another boy, was born in 1969. He wasn't named after anyone, he was just Kevin. Then in 1971 another girl, Bobbi, arrived. She was named after... well take your pick: Robert Collins Senior, Robbie Collins, or Robert, Cathy's father. There was certainly justification there for calling a child Roberta, or Bobbi for short.
Kenny and I got pretty creative about getting together two or three times a month. Cathy and I and the children had been offered a move to Fredericton, on the east coast, and home of UNB. I was to be the new IBM Systems Engineer assigned to the university. I was thrilled, for more reasons than one. It would also make us about 15 miles from Uncle Brad, and even though he no longer had the farm, I looked forward to spending time with him. Kenny, working now as an independent consultant and doing very well, assured me that we would see each other as much as before. He turned out to be right, what with my many trips to Toronto and his trips east. I missed having him only a few blocks away, but it was certainly better than not having him at all. And so it went. Each of us arranged our lives around two other people, plus three children. Each of us cared deeply for each other and we all adored the kids. We were happy again! All of us! And it had all been engineered by Cathy, the old fashioned, never-do-any-kinky-sex lady who thought that pre-marital sex was just about the worst sin on earth! She was truly turning out to be a helluva lady!
In 1979 disaster struck. Little Kenny had never been a very healthy child, and had been in and out of hospitals and clinics all his life. The doctors were completely mystified. If it had been 10 or 15 years later I would have suspected AIDS, because that's exactly how it seemed. He had no resistance to infections at all! When the other kids were home from school two days with the flu, Kenny spent two weeks in bed. I guess I'd known from the time he was a year old that I'd never see him grow up, but that didn't make it any easier when the end came. He was 12 years old! I totally lost it and ended up in the psych ward of the hospital on suicide watch. Again enter Kenny!
"You've got to snap out of it, Charlie," he said as I sat there looking into space.
"That's fine for you to say," I accused, "You haven't just lost your son."
"Pretty damn close," he reminded me, "Have you forgotten who he was named after? I adored that kid, Charlie! Who sat up with him night after night? Who brought him back from the brink so many times I've lost count? But you've got three more kids, and they need you! You're a good father and husband, but you're gonna screw it all up if you're not there for them, the same as you were there for Kenny."
"Yeah," I said bitterly, "A lot of good that did him."
"You did your best, Charlie! No, it wasn't good enough. But you can't blame yourself for that. Life goes on and you have to go on with it, or get left behind."
I did snap out of it, eventually. And when I did I noticed something that had escaped my attention before. I was so wrapped up in Little Kenny and his problems, I hadn't even noticed how beautiful my other three were! And Kevin, then nine years old, was so handsome he took my breath away! He was quite withdrawn, having lived up to this point more or less without a father. I saw myself in Kevin: a boy wanting so badly to be close to his father but not knowing how to break through the wall that I'd put up. Kenny was right: The best thing I could do for Lil Kenny now was to let him rest in peace and get on with my own life. I had vowed solemnly many years ago that my children, if I ever had any, would never have to live like that, so I set about to change and was rewarded with a gorgeous, active little boy who considered his dad his best friend. We hunted and fished, went camping and motorcycling; He played hockey and I watched, even helped out with the coaching for a couple of years; he played soccer and basketball, but his forte was hockey and motocross. He loved racing his motorbike, but he never did very well because he just wasn't aggressive enough. No problem, he had fun and didn't get hurt.
The girls were much more self confident. They were undoubtedly pleased to get their father back, but it wasn't as dramatic as with Kevin. But they still let me know that they appreciated my presence at swim meets, recitals, whatever, and actually paying attention to what was going on. The whole episode gave me a new understanding for the strain that parents go through when they find themselves raising a disabled child. It's a really thin wire we walk, balancing our attention.
Well my friends, I guess I've run out of story, other than to tie up some loose ends.
Kenny, Cathy and I continued our odd relationship for many years. Sometimes we lived in the same town, sometimes not. When there was a special occasion in either of our lives, the other was the first to know and make an appearance. Kenny went on several vacation trips with us, to places like Florida, Mexico, western Canada. When we were walking around some tourist attraction like an amusement park or public garden, it was Kenny's self-appointed task to carry one of the children on his shoulders. More often than not that child was Kevin.
I won't even try to tell you there weren't problems. We were back in the closet again, tighter than we'd ever been. We didn't like that much, but it had been one of Cathy's ground rules and we had to admit under the circumstances that it made sense.
Cathy and I didn't live together a lifetime, raise three children, without arguments. At times they got pretty intense and one or the other of us would point out how much simpler life would be if Kenny and I could just be platonic friends. But on the whole I can still not believe how tolerant Cathy was of the goings on when Kenny and I were together. She didn't want to know the details and made it very clear that she wouldn't tolerate extra-curricular activities by either of us. Kenny assured both of us that he was being faithful, and with the threat of permanently losing both my lovers hanging over my head, I walked the line as well.
One time, in an effort to appease my guilty conscience, I suggested to Cathy that she get together with Kenny. It was a stupid idea and she wasted no time informing me of such. Being a very slow learner I got myself in further trouble by telling her how great he was in bed, and that I would understand if she gave him a try. "Don't push it!" she commanded. The tone of her voice told me she meant it.
In 1981 Uncle Brad died. I cannot say that it was sudden - he'd had several strokes and was on outpatient dialysis for several years. Regardless, I wasn't ready to lose one of the few allies I had in my own family. To make matters worse (or maybe better?) we were still living in Fredericton, so I got the honor of driving Aunt Melanie around shopping for caskets, all that lovely stuff. The funeral director started showing her all these high dollar casket-service package, far more than she could afford, but in her emotional state she was in no condition to negotiate. While I was thinking of stepping in, Cathy did it. She simply explained that we were far from millionaires, that Aunt Melanie was on a very limited budget, to which the director responded by showing a much less expensive line... still dignified but not out of reach.
It was raining the day of the funeral - a cold April rain. As we stood at the grave side, my mind went back to that old cattle barn where Unc and I had milked so many cows, and where I'd poured out my soul so many times. When I knelt in the mud, totally soaked by the rain, I felt a hand on each shoulder. One was Kenny's, the other, Kevin's. He was only 11, but he knew his dad was hurting, and that little hand did so much for me I could never put it into words. "We buried my father today," I found myself saying. My "real" father - make that my biological father, was not there; he had decided he was too sick to attend his brother's funeral. Ellen was there on his behalf - I don't know if she heard me or not. And frankly it wasn't important - I was speaking from my heart.
It was 1986 when my father finally succumbed. For the previous five years or so he'd been practically an invalid, at least in his own mind. The truth is, after his fourth heart attack, he had simply sat in his chair and given up. Cathy said one day when talking to her mother, "We can depend on it. Every two months or so Ellen calls and tells Charlie that his father has had another 'spell' and isn't doing well at all, that he should come right away. So we bundle up the children, cancel whatever plans we might have, and trundle them off the 175 miles to Moncton. By the time we get there he is sitting in his chair watching TV, with the volume so loud we can't hear to talk. He ignores our children, is always putting Charlie down, telling him how much better his cousins are doing, and then we come back home, both of us so stressed out we yell at each other all the way home."
There's no point in expanding on Cathy's description, I guess it says it all. By this point my father and I had come to a "peaceful coexistence", in my mind only because he was indeed becoming helpless and he needed me. On the other hand, he was my father. But sometimes the "boy who cried wolf" principle really works. When the big one came in 1986, when Ellen called, I hung up the phone after talking with her for about 20 minutes, saying simply "It's Dad again." It was Friday evening, about 9 PM.
"Charlie," Cathy pleaded, "Kevin's got an archery tournament tomorrow, and Bobbi's got a swim meet Sunday. Do we have to go?"
"Hell no!" I replied, "It's time she realized that I don't owe her nothing! And I don't owe my father much more!" Cathy was funny that way. She is and was one of the strongest women I know, but when she got the feeling she was being screwed over, that someone she loved intensely, like ME, was putting someone else first in their lives, she lost control. So I got to be a knight in shining armor from time to time. It felt good to reassure her, to make he realize by my actions that I really did care about her and her children. So we didn't go to Moncton, and that was when my father died.
I don't know how he got the news, but within hours I had a call from Kenny in Toronto. "Charlie, I'm sorry," he said, "But... uh... is it ok if I don't come down? I'm into something really important right now and..."
"Kenny," I interrupted, "Why in the world would you come? He never had any use for you, never said anything good about you!"
"I know, Charlie, But he was your father, and if you need me, I'll be there."
"Not a problem, dude," I answered "I got this one covered. But thanks for offering. I love you."
He assured me that he loved me, and we hung up.
"Dad," Bobbi approached me the next morning, "Do you suppose it would be all right if I sang a solo at Grampy's funeral?" She was 15 years old, and a lot more mature than I had realized.
"I think it would be fine, Honey," I answered, "But it would be a little tough on you. Are you sure you want to?"
"I have to, Dad!" she said as the tears came in a flood, "I never really knew him when he was alive, but I have to do something. He had to be a pretty great man, 'cause he was your father!"
Well, there's no need to tell you what happened to me at that point. If you don't believe another line in this story, believe that one! I was so moved I couldn't speak for about ten minutes! Bobbi did sing her solo, beautifully and clearly. She had a beautiful soprano voice, and she and I had been singing duets in church from the time she was five years old. And her solo that day was without doubt the best ever!
In 1991 I was given a chance to retire early. At that time I had only 28 years with IBM, but they made me an offer I couldn't refuse. The truth was they were beginning to cut costs and I was being paid a pretty good dollar by then. I even managed to negotiate a move to Raleigh, North Carolina as part of the package. We had been there in the early 80's for two years and had absolutely fallen in love with the place. So after I had ironed out all the details of my offer, it was time for a trip to Toronto.
Kenny and I hadn't seen each other for about four months when he picked me up at the airport. It was about all we could do to restrain ourselves until we got to his car, and there we kissed passionately. "Man!" he said when we came up for air, "I missed you so much!"
"That might be changing," I said with a grin, "I have some big news for you."
"Yeah? Like what?"
"Nope, not gonna tell you unless you give me a blow job."
"Not a problem," he laughed, "I kinda had one of them in mind anyway. So what's your news?"
"No you don't," I teased, "Not till AFTER the blow job."
"Wassamatta, don't trust me?"
"Just taking a little insurance," I grinned.
I didn't get my blow job before I told him my news. I just couldn't wait until we drove to his house, got through supper, then went to bed. Kenny had put on a roast and all the trimmings before he left for the airport, and we were in process of setting everything on the table when he said "You really are gonna make me wait, aren't you?"
"Nope, I can't." I answered, "Kenny, my beautiful Kenny, it's over! All our waiting, our commuting, arranging trips, it's all over!"
"You're moving back to Toronto?" he said hopefully.
"Better! I'm moving to Raleigh. I'm retiring, Kenny! I just got an early retirement package!"
At this point there are a few things I need to explain. I had been sent to Raleigh on a two year foreign assignment in 1981. We had all thoroughly enjoyed the Raleigh area, had fallen absolutely in love with the place! Kenny got down from Toronto quite often, because at that time Raleigh was IBM's telecommunications capital of the world, and there were always seminars, classes, meetings that he could justify attending. We had formulated a plan at that time that one day we would retire there and be together again. And now it had happened! Being in his own business, Kenny could more or less decide where he wanted to live, and the way Raleigh was developing he would have no problem getting work. He had started immediately setting the pins in place, making contacts, for the eventual move. Stephanie had graduated high school in Raleigh and had started NC State, so when we'd returned to Canada in 1983 she stayed, and was still there. She was and still is the subject of a fair bit of good- natured ridicule as she talks with her southern drawl mixed with the Canadian accent she was born with.
Supper was forgotten. The roast was left on the kitchen counter, half carved. The veggies, all hot and steaming on the table, were left to cool on their own as Kenny melted into my arms. "You wouldn't joke about something like that, would you Charlie?" he said as he squeezed me so hard I couldn't breathe.
"It's no joke," I assured him, "I'll be all done with IBM next April.
"What about the kids?" he asked.
"I think they'll be staying in Canada. Bobbi is still in college and Kevin is getting pretty serious with a girl. They're kind of keeping their options open right now. It kinda hurts a little, but they have their own lives and they deserve the chance to live then. You can move in with us if you want to. There'll only be you and me and Cathy."
There was no more discussion that night. We made our way to the bedroom where we were once again naked and in each other's arms. "I love you so much, Charlie!" he exclaimed as we embraced, just enjoying the closeness, the feel of our bodies together, knowing that we'd soon be together never to be separated again.
We all moved to Raleigh in the first part of May, 1991. I had two houses in Halifax and took a financial bath on both of them. We sold the one we were living in at a big loss, and the other I signed over to Kevin. Well, he had to live somewhere didn't he? I worked with Kenny for the first two years as a consultant, but it wasn't the type of thing I could do. Thirty years with IBM had given me a sense of security, a need if you like, that I just could not overcome. So when I was offered a full time permanent job I accepted it readily.
Kenny and I were disappointed, it was so totally awesome being not only lovers and friends, but business partners too! But he understood my reasons and accepted our new situation. He lived with Cathy and me for about three years, but then he bought his own house so that the kids would have room to stay with us when they visited. Perhaps some day, he said, they might move down and need a place to stay for a while.
In 1994 our lives were once more turned upside down. In August we were visited by Bobbi and her new daughter Jessica. They were driven by her husband Jeff to Yarmouth, Nova Scotia, where they caught the ferry to Bar Harbor Maine, where we met them and drove them back to Raleigh. They stayed about two weeks, then we drove them back to Bar Harbor and drove back to Raleigh. As soon as we got back after the driving ordeal, Cathy dropped the bombshell. "Charlie," she said as we got ready for bed, "I've found a lump in my breast."
"Are you sure?" I demanded, trying to pass it off as her imagination. Afer all she'd done all the usual tests, had her mammograms, etc. Cathy was a nurse! How could she be caught like this? But it turned out that she'd been right. There'd been doctors' appointments, biopsies, all the usual stuff. In September, 1994, on our 31st anniversary, Cathy was in the OR, not as a nurse, but as a cancer patient having her breast removed. Predictably, Kenny was in the waiting room with me, just being there. To be honest, I think he was as upset as I was.
Cathy came through the surgery wonderfully, but the following meeting with the oncologist was less than encouraging. "We got all the cancer as far as we can tell," she said guardedly, "But just to make sure I'm prescribing nine months of chemotherapy. It's fairly standard in cases like this."
"Fairly standard!" That's what she'd said. Well let me tell you, I have never in my entire life seen such torture! What those drugs did to Cathy was absolutely barbaric! She was so sick I found myself wondering if death wouldn't be better. Night after night I would get her into bed after a day of injections, followed by hours of sickness, throwing up, dry heaves. As soon as she was in bed and relatively settled, I would melt into Kenny's arms and we both cried until there simply weren't any tears left. I have never experienced anything so horrible in my entire life! At the same time, I realized just how much I loved that lady.
Christmas 1994 was really special. Our children all believed their mother wouldn't be around next year, so they all descended on our little house for the holidays. Kenny had moved out, so Bobbi and Jeff, with Jessica their daughter, and Kevin, all somehow crammed into the house for the Christmas season. The North Carolina weather was at its best and we had an incredible time! But Cathy fooled them all again and came through her chemo, and was declared free of cancer. To this day she appears cancer free, but the ordeal had taken its toll. She now had no uterus, no ovaries, one breast; her energy level is a quarter what it was and her tolerance to colds, flu and the like is all but gone. But she is still here.
I guess I've come to the point where I have to tell you about Kenny. I've been putting it off now for quite a while, perhaps because by writing about him, remembering him, he's been in some ways with me again. But like everything Kenny did, he died in style, with no fanfare, no burden on anyone.
Just days after Kenny's 58th birthday, I had the dubious pleasure of calling his mother and telling her that her son was gone. He had been working in a Midwest city for about six months, spending three or four days a week there. He had come home for his birthday because Kenny and I always had a 'special' birthday party. Then he left and said he wouldn't be back until the project was finished, which could take up to a month. Four days later when he didn't show up for a meeting, his client checked on him at his hotel and they found him. He had apparently gone to bed as usual, and some time through the night his heart had simply stopped.
At his mother's request, we took Kenny back to Moncton to be buried next to his father. Through the whole procedure I hardly saw or heard anything. I never cried, I think I was too stunned. In my mind I saw playing over and over, like an old movie, a beautiful thirteen year old with a voice croaking between soprano and baritone as he came bounding into the classroom as I was leaving. Little did I know then that as beautiful as he was externally, I hadn't seen anything of his real beauty till I'd got to know him. I felt guilt and remorse for the life he'd lived, because of me. He could have had a family, or a lover, a full time lover that is, but he refused to leave me. He assured me over and over that he had the best he could ask for; but how many others would have settled for the life he led?
I was the one who drank; I was the one who smoked. I was the one who had diabetes, who had a long family history of heart disease. And yet it was Kenny who died first. Mom had no problem with this and told me simply "His work here was done, Charlie." As usual Mom was right: Kenny had done his job and done it well.
There are literally thousands of incidents I haven't documented here to show how special he was. Like the time I was laid up with knee surgery and couldn't walk, couldn't drive. Kenny just took over my duties as father and got the children to school meetings, hockey games and swim meets. Like when Cathy was so sick in the cancer ward. He became mother and father to the children then, because neither of us was able. Like when we first set up our triangle arrangement. It was Kenny who imposed a rule that neither Cathy nor I had thought of. When Cathy and I were having a fight, or I was in the doghouse over something, Kenny was off limits for me. He reasoned that the last thing a marriage needed was for one or the other of us to have someone to be sympathetic and undermine the relationship. There were times, I have no doubt, that he could have moved in on a situation and may well have helped to separate Cathy and me, but that's not what Kenny was all about.
I had a million things I wanted to say at this point, but now that my fingers are on the keyboard I can't think of a single thing. Perhaps the entire story I've just related says it all. That is, after all, why I wrote the story. It's my tribute to a pretty wonderful guy.
Mom is still alive, living in a retirement home in Toronto. She is now 84 years old, still drives her own car, keeps active socially, and is still the same inspiration to her loved ones that she always was. She sold the house about six years ago and lived with Robbie for a year or so, but she missed her independence. We hope to be enjoying Mom for a long time to come.
A little over two years ago Ellen had a sudden heart attack and died instantly. As expected my sister and I were totally disinherited, our father's estate being left to Ellen's three children. This had apparently been our father's direction before he died. It hurt some, but it was the principle, not the money. I've made it this far without his help so I guess I can make it the rest of the way.
As for me, I won't be leaving my children anything either. I'm 60 years old, three years into a new career, and flat broke. I told my kids last year when I updated my will that there was no money so don't count on it. You see they already have their inheritance. The girls are both well established in their own homes, and I just spent the last of my savings helping Kevin buy a 13-acre plot of land bordering on his sister's property. Like his father before him, Kevin lost a lot of money when he sold his house in Canada. This coming summer we'll be building Kevin a log house on his land. Who knows? Maybe some day I'll be living there too, when I can no longer live independently.
I have been asked a few times, and will probably be asked more as a result of this story, would I do it again? What would I do differently if I could do it again. My first reaction is to say that now I have finally figured out that I'm gay, through and through, and that I had no business ever getting married. I believe that, but when I think of the family I have now, I would be hard pressed to wish them out of existence.
First there's Stephanie. Ms. Independence! She came to Raleigh with us in 1981, graduated high school here, and stayed go to NC State when the family returned to Canada. She was only 17, but she did just fine. After college, with a degree in Criminology she stayed here in Raleigh and went to work for the Department of Correction. She met a young man while she was still in school, a certified alcoholic who not only drank constantly but also beat up on Step now and then. Of course we were never aware of that until later. She stuck by him, cared for him, loved him. Phillip is her husband now, and he's been dry for ten years. He's a good husband and totally devoted to Stephanie.
We don't see as much of Steph and Phillip as I would like, but I understand. Phillip comes from an extremely dysfunctional family. He is the middle of three brothers. When he was 14 his mother went to his school, had him pulled out of class to tell him that she wouldn't be home when he got there, that she was leaving, and that he should tell his little brother. And it went downhill from there. Now he calls Stephanie's family "that bunch of crazy Canadians," because when we're together there is always laughter, always picking at each other good-naturel, always love. Phillip cannot relate to a family that acts like that and it makes him very uncomfortable. He's coming though, he drops in from time to time to borrow some tool from me, or ask my advice, or to use the bathroom. Up, he's coming along.
And still I miss Kenny.
I have already spoken of Kevin a great deal, so there's not much more to tell. He has an almost obsessive love for the outdoors, having grown up with his dad taking him camping, fishing, hunting. He was racing motocross when he was 8, even stripping the engine and putting it back together between races. He was never much of a scholar, had no aspirations of college or anything academic. I told him that's ok, be a garbage collector if you want, just be a good one. He went to a community college and became a welder/boiler maker. From all the things I've heard, he is a very good one!
Kevin and I were always 'best friends' until he was 17, which was when he learned the true nature of my relationship with Kenny. In spite of my efforts to explain, he had a very rough year, which was complicated by the girl he was going with, who regarded our closeness as a threat and set about to destroy our friendship. As any father of a teenager will tell you, there is absolutely no point in trying to fight those hormones because you'll lose every time! I was devastated, thinking of my own relationship with my father and that history was repeating. Frankly this gulf between my son and me was one of the reasons I moved to Raleigh.
Kevin got over his problem, finally saw that girl as the bitch she is, and we are now best friends again. This past August I had the extreme pleasure of going to Nova Scotia and helping him sell his house, pack up, and move to Raleigh. He and Suzanne, his fiance, are living with Cathy and me right now, with their Children Dixie and Becky. They are Labrador Retrievers. Full house, or what?!
I stayed with Suzanne's parents last summer while we cleaned up Kevin's house and got it sold, packed up the U-Haul and finished up all his business. They are wonderful people and we became very good friends. The night before we left they threw a party for us, and two of the guests were a gay couple who live next door. I judge their age to be around 35. They were truly the life of the party, and fully accepted by all present. It gave me hope... things really are changing. Suzanne, who I don't think knows anything about me, told me that Rodney and Dennis had been her very good friends as long as she'd known them, and that they were totally devoted to each other. I wanted desperately to get to know them as a Gay brother, but that wasn't the right time or place. In the future, who knows?
Kevin is the kind of kid (kid? He's 29! But I'm 60, so I guess I have the right to call him a kid.)... the kind of kid that everyone loves. He stands a good three or four inches taller than my 5'7" and is built like the proverbial brick shithouse. As one of my neighbors who has 'adopted' Kevin as his surrogate son says, "Putting your arms around Kevin is like hugging a giant oak tree!" Yes, in case you haven't guessed, I'm pretty proud of him.
Years ago when Kevin was 10 or so, Kenny gave me a poem that I thought I'd share. I have no idea where it came from or who wrote it, but when he gave it to me he looked me in the eye and said "You better do like it says or you'll answer to me!" the poem goes:
A careful man I want to be, A little fellow follows me.
I do not care to go astray for fear he'll go the self same way.
I cannot once escape his eyes, for what he sees me do, he tries.
Like me he says he's going to be, that little chap who follows me.
He thinks that I am big and fine; he believes in every word of mine.
The bad in me he must not see, that little chap who follows me.
I must remember as I go through summer sun and winter snow,
I'm building for the years to be,
That little chap who follows me.
Is it any wonder I still mourn for Kenny?
And then there's Bobbi. She was my youngest, my little princess. She was very athletic, was on a swim team from the time she was 7. She paddled kayaks and made it to the Canada Games, where the Olympic team members are chosen. She never made it though because she came down with severe debilitating headaches, which scared the bejeepers of out everyone. We immediately thought brain tumor, but the doctors could find nothing wrong. She still has those headaches, but she keeps on keeping on. Bobbi was also the musician of the family. Both she and Stephanie play piano, but Bobbi is the one who enjoys it, and she sings like an angel.
Bobbi was still in college when we moved to Raleigh, and she opted to stay there to finish. She met Jeff and they were soon married. Jeff is the youngest of four children, three boys and a girl. His father reminds me so much of mine it's scary! Needless to say he didn't have much of a relationship with his dad and was very leery of me. In early 1996 Bobbi and Jeff and their two children moved to Raleigh and lived with Cathy and me for two years while we got them a piece of land and built their house. Jeff and I are the best of friends now; he calls me "Sir." I told him one time with a grin that he didn't have to call me "Sir," but he replied "I know that, maybe I just want to."
This past September, a little over three months now, their third child was born: a little boy. They named him Charles, or as we call him, LilCharlie. I'm still not used to having a namesake... I cannot hold that little guy without tears in my eyes. He is so beautiful, so perfect, so tiny! He has now got to the point that whenever he hears my voice he starts yelling until I pick him up and sing to him. My sister said one day, "Well, Charlie, think of it this way: At last someone besides me and Mom appreciate your singing."
And still I feel so bad that my life is so great and Kenny is not here to enjoy it with me.
In light of all the above, I mean all sixteen chapters of it, I cannot honestly say that I would want anything to be different. I should never have got married, but if I hadn't there would be six wonderful people, maybe more in the future, who would never have been born. As I sat holding LilCharlie last week, watching him watch me and smile as I sang to him, I cannot imagine the world without him. And he's only 3 months old! No, if I could go back and do it all again, knowing the outcome, I wouldn't change a thing. Well, yes, there's one thing I would change: I would treat Kenny a whole lot better and treasure him more. He certainly was a jewel!
When I am doing something with my children, any of them, or my grandchildren, I often think of my father. He ignored my sister and me, and even more so our kids. Now that I have raised a family and I'm watching my grandchildren develop, I know for certain what I always suspected. It's his loss, not mine and Joan's! We weren't perfect kids by any means, but I think there was enough good there for him to enjoy if he'd looked for it, but he never did. Oh well...
Speaking of my sister, she still lives in Toronto with her husband and daughter. Debbie is 46 and not doing very well. She came down with MS, the same horrible disease that killed our mother. With modern drugs she has been able to function better than her grandmother, but there is still no cure. MS is hereditary, skips generations, and attacks females much more than males. I don't have to tell you I watch my girls pretty closely because I carry that gene too; but so far there have been no signs. I think, once Kevin gets into his house and Cathy and I are alone again, Joan and Co. just might consider moving in with us. I hope so, I really love my big sister. I became a citizen of the United States last May and Cathy has had her final interview, will be sworn in in January, so sponsoring a sister should be much easier now.
I have often been asked why I didn't pursue my music, why I never played the organ again after Kenny and I left for college. I can't answer that; I have no earthly idea. I did buy a used organ in 1971: a small church organ or a large home organ, take your pick. In 1991 I traded it for a large theater style organ. But I was content to play those organs for my own enjoyment. Neither Cathy nor Kenny had any interest in music, so my organ playing was just for me and the children, and even they had little interest in the organ. I guess perhaps that was something I needed at that point in my life, and then I moved on. Sometimes I regret not having kept at it, but we all have priorities, and that was just not high on my list.
One might think after reading this series that I am constantly mourning Kenny, but I'm not. I think on the whole I am as happy today as I've ever been. But there are still moments, lots of them, when I think of Kenny, and I cry. It's not so much tears of sadness, just tears of wonder at how incredibly lucky (blessed??) I've been.
Well, that's my story. I hope you all enjoyed reading it half as much as I enjoyed living it. I'm going to close the final chapter with a hearty THANK YOU to all who have stayed with me. It has been a bittersweet experience re-living all those memories, and it would not have been worthwhile without someone to read them. One final song: This is a song written and recorded by Rita MacNeil, a Canadian folk singer. To me this song illustrates exactly how I feel.
I've been going over my life
And I feel you in the breeze
You're a constant reminder
Of what used to be
And I know you walk beside me
On the earth beneath my feet
And though you're only a memory
You still give to me
A reason to remember,
And a reason to believe
I've been going over your life
And I've seen you on your knees
You so wanted favors bestowed upon me
And I know that in our distance
You were never out of reach
And though you're only a memory
You still give to me
A reason to remember,
And a reason to believe.
And the love that you gave to me
Is the reason I feel
Why the heart needs affection
And the soul needs peace.
I've been going over our time
And when parting had to be.
When you live through the changes
Oh the learning cuts deep
And I know that in your silence
You found a way to speak
And though you're only a memory
You still give to me
A reason to remember
And a reason to believe.
Kenny, I love you!
As always, comments, suggestions, criticisms are welcome. Please email charlieje@mindspring.com