This story is entirely fictional, and any resemblances to actual persons are completely coincidental. Actual locations are mentioned, and are used for 'background' only.
'Phalen - Finding Happiness' Chapter eighteen
by Roy Reinikainen
"Have you seen him in the last few days?" Brad leaned his elbows on the kitchen island counter as Greg poured them both a cold drink. Larry, Phalen and Jeff remained seated around one of the tables on the patio, the remnants of a celebration dinner littering the tabletop. Larry had called earlier in the afternoon and told them he had resigned and would be starting a new job across the hall.
Both Phalen and Larry were in rare form tonight, laughing and telling stories about some of the things that had happened over the years at Larry's old job. Brad had tried to take part in the festivities, but something was holding him back. When he went inside to refill his glass, Greg followed.
Both men could hear bursts of laughter through the open doors to the patio. Greg finished filling the glass with cold water and shook his head in answer to Brad's question. There was no need to ask to whom Brad was referring. They shared something in common, he and Brad. They both cared for the same man.
"No, I haven't heard from him since he came over on the night Dustin was arrested. I've called him and left a couple messages, but haven't heard back. It's not like him to not return my calls. Usually, he calls back within a couple hours at the most." Greg set the pitcher of ice water on the counter. "Have you heard anything?" Brad compressed his lips and shook his head.
"No." He rotated the icy glass of water, lost in thought and looked up to find Greg watching him, his hand still gripping the pitcher's handle.
"Greg." He cleared his throat, and paused a moment before continuing with a bowed head. "I feel bad talking to you about him. I mean, you guys are a couple, and I'm just a . . . someone, who's concerned. I've been with him so long, it's tough to stop worrying about him. Thanks for your understanding."
Greg leaned on the counter, opposite Brad and spoke in a low voice. "Brad, Curt and I aren't a . . ." He looked up at the sound of the doorbell and signaled to the men on the patio that he'd see to it. Phalen waved acknowledgment and sank back into his chair, immediately embarking on another story.
Greg trotted through the living room, his bare feet making slight smacking noises on the polished brick floor. The brick in the courtyard was still warm from the afternoon sun as he hefted the heavy courtyard door open.
"Hey," Curt smiled a weary sort of smile. "If I recall, you said that was the Finnish word for hi." Curt stepped past the door and into the courtyard and opened his arms in a silent invitation. Greg was intensely aware of the fact that Brad most likely was watching them from inside the house.
"Was I right about the word for hi?" He was answered by Greg's smile and a nod.
"It's one of the words. I wouldn't have thought you'd remember." He held Curt at arm's length.
"What's this?" He nodded to the long stemmed red rose wrapped in white tissue paper, in Curt's hand.
"Oh, yeah." He held the rose out for Greg to take. "This is for you. It's something of an apology for ignoring you during the past few days." He leaned close for another deep and lingering kiss.
"Thank you, Curt." Greg inhaled the heady fragrance of the rose. "This is the first time anyone has given me a flower." He smiled brightly as he continued. "Once, I would have claimed receiving a flower from someone special was meaningless. I would have been wrong." He put his arm around Curt's shoulder.
"C'mon inside. We're having a celebration. Larry's moving to a new job."
"I'd love to, Greg, but I can't. I'm heading over to the parents' house. We're going downtown to see Dustin." Curt became serious. "I told him that the man he called names and tried to frame, is the man I'm dating." He looked away. "I don't know what I hoped to prove. I just had to say something. It was either that or wring his neck, and I didn't think that would be too cool to do inside a jail." His lips twisted into a lopsided grin.
"Now, I've got to run. I'll try and be better about keeping in touch." He leaned forward for another kiss, groping Greg's butt through his shorts at the same time. "I'd much rather get naked and climb into a big bed with you, than go downtown." He sighed as he took a step back. "If the parents weren't waiting, that's exactly what I'd invite you to do." He turned on his heel and pulled the courtyard door open.
"Adios," he laughed. "Sorry, I don't know the right word for good-bye."
"Nakemiin," Greg called with a smile as the door closed. He leaned his back against the door and waited until he heard Curt toot his horn twice and drive off before he guiltily glanced at the rose and then toward the brightly lit kitchen.
'This had to happen with Brad looking on,' he thought to himself as he headed back inside.
"He . . . wanted to apologize for not returning my telephone calls." Greg explained as he crossed the living room and walked into the kitchen. He glanced at the rose, seemingly embarrassed by its presence. "He told me a few days ago he has a big project going on, and then on top of it, he's had to deal with the mess surrounding his brother. I asked if he could stay, but he was on his way downtown to see Dustin."
Greg fidgeted uncomfortably. "I'm sorry you had to see that, Brad. I'm sorry for this." He nodded to the rose, releasing his grip on the white tissue paper wrapping and setting the rose on the counter. "Is everything okay . . . between the two of us? I mean, I've hardly gotten to know you. I'm feeling very awkward, right now."
Brad rested a comforting hand on top of Greg's. "Yes, things are fine." He glanced at Greg's skeptical expression. "Really. We're both in an uncomfortable position. I understand completely. It's . . . it's rough. That's all."
"I hate it that I'm the person who seems to be making things more difficult for you. I assure you, it was never my intention."
"Whenever you're with him, are you happy?" Greg didn't have to think to know how to respond.
"Yes, happier than I've ever been. He lets me be me. He doesn't judge me, or pressure me. He listens."
"Sounds wonderful." Brad hesitated. "Do you love him?"
Once again, Greg didn't have to think before responding. "No. I don't love him. I like him, very much. He's a wonderful man who has made me feel good about myself and my sexual orientation. I'd like to think I've been able to help him out a little, as well. He's carrying around a lot of weight on his shoulders and has a tendency to think that he's personally responsible for everyone's problems."
"Some of what he feels probably comes from work, where they've put a lot of responsibility on his shoulders, but I think most of it comes from feelings of . . . guilt." Greg spoke the last word warily, unsure how much he should say to Brad about Curt. He knew Curt continued to feel deeply about Brad, but he wasn't sure how far beyond mere, concern, Brad's feelings about Curt went. After all, he and Larry appeared to be very happy with one another.
"You mean, he still feels personally responsible for what happened between him and me?" Greg slowly nodded.
"I guess. Some. He's slowly working through his feelings. That's one of the reasons he's spending so much time at work, trying to do everyone's job plus his own. He wants to prove to himself . . . and others . . . that he's a person worthy of being . . ." Greg paused, trying to think of the correct word. "I don't know. Loved might be too strong a word to use in relation to his work."
"He needs to be told he's a good guy. When it comes to work, he's brimming with confidence. With everything else, it's as if he's . . . walking on eggshells, afraid he might say or do something that will demonstrate to everyone how vulnerable he really is." Greg took a deep breath, releasing it slowly.
"Believe me, Brad. I know what it means to carry around that sort of vulnerability. It eats away at you until, before long, you are afraid to do or say anything for fear of being verbally attacked and ridiculed."
Brad ran the tip of a forefinger over one petal of the red rose bud. "It seems as if he's a different person from the one I knew." He nodded toward the rose. Greg looked at Brad with a crooked grin, watching as he continued to unconsciously . . . caress . . . the flower with a fingertip.
"Curt's trying to be the man he feels he should have been, whenever the two of you were together. The most difficult thing though, is for him to begin liking himself." He gave Brad a wry smile. "I also personally know how difficult learning to like oneself can be."
"Do you think he'll be able to . . . succeed . . . in . . . finding himself?" Greg thought a moment, and then nodded slowly.
"Yes, I think so . . . with the help of someone who loves him." Greg's meaningful glance seemed to elude Brad, who continued to stare at the flower lying on the countertop.
"Good," he finally said. "When he finds himself, he's going to make someone a good partner. I think you both are very lucky you have one another."
Greg laid a hand on Brad's shoulder in gentle rebuke. "Brad . . . I hate to say it, but you haven't been listening to me." He walked around the counter and headed toward the patio where everyone was laughing, caught up in one of Phalen's stories. He turned and looked over his shoulder.
"Before you join us, take a moment and think about everything I've just said."
Brad seemed to finally realize Greg was no longer standing opposite him, leaning on the counter. He looked up with a start and then turned to look over his shoulder to where Greg was watching him, one hand on the door frame. The conversation on the patio continued uninterrupted.
"Huh?" Brad blushed and turned in his chair. "I'm sorry, Greg. I guess I was so caught up in my own thoughts that I wasn't really paying attention to everything you were saying. You wanted me to think about what you said?"
Greg nodded and then waited while Brad sat quietly, trying to dredge up a hint of what he should be thinking of.
"Geez, I'm sorry. I was thinking about . . . something else." An uneasy smile twitched at the corners of his lips. "What is it I should be thinking about?"
Greg stepped close and rested a hand lightly on Brad's shoulder, focusing his attention. "Brad . . . Curt and I are not a couple. Think about it."
The silence dragged on as Brad seemed to digest what he had just been told. His eyes flicked to Greg and then away before returning.
"Oh. But, the rose . . . the kisses, and hugs. What do they mean?"
"Think about it." Greg turned and stepped out onto the patio, pulling up a chair.
When Phalen looked over his shoulder to see if Brad would be joining them on the patio, he saw Brad leaning with his back to the kitchen island counter, his head tilted back and his eyes closed. One hand hung limply at his side. As Phalen watched, Brad tilted his head forward and brought the rose he was holding in other hand to his nose and inhaled deeply, his mobile mouth seeming to quiver on the verge of a smile.
Larry stepped from the elevator to the thickly carpeted elevator lobby, something he'd done almost every day for the past eighteen years, only this time he did so with a spring in his step. Today he was starting a new job. He was free of Mr. Casey and the office backstabbing he had endured for what seemed an eternity.
He looked toward his old office, giving a jaunty salute to the two receptionists behind the immense counter. "Brad called the two women, vultures." Larry could only smile at the allusion, seeing the resemblance for the first time.
They turned up their collective downward curving noses, causing his smile to brighten. They'd done essentially the same thing each morning for years. At least today he didn't have to bite his tongue and greet them civilly. They were safely caged behind the glass wall, and he was free!
He paused a moment as he stepped from the elevator lobby into the brightly lit reception room with an enormous painting of an Arizona sunset gracing one of the walls. The perky receptionist smiled a good morning greeting which caused him to pause longer, almost jubilant to find himself in such a wonderful setting.
'I love it here,' he thought, returning her greeting with a bright smile of his own, dimples and all. She seemed to glow with appreciation, giving him a shy wave as he headed down the hallway to his office.
Mikko Halonen, head of the new office, walked alongside Andrew Johnston, the man who had taught Larry what it meant to be gay. Under different circumstances, he and Andrew might have become a couple. Things had not worked out, and each had gone their separate ways, content to remain friends.
"Hey men," he said, holding his arms out to his sides. "What an absolutely beautiful morning this is! My first day, and I'm already loving this place." He looked from side to side. The peaceful colors extended from the lobby down the corridor, as did the colorful artwork. Very few office doors were closed, unlike his old office. He could even hear laughter in the distance. It was such a change from the old office he didn't know quite what to think.
"Good morning." Mikko returned Larry's smile and patted him on the back in lieu of a handshake. "I'm just heading out. Maybe you and Andrew would like to have a cup of coffee, or something. I'll catch up with you after you get settled in." He gave Andrew a brief hug before heading down the corridor, leaving Andrew to follow Larry to his sun-filled office.
Andrew turned to him the moment the office door closed. "May I give one of my favorite men a hug," he asked, wearing a hopeful expression at the same time he held his arms wide.
Larry stepped into the welcoming embrace, blushing when Andrew gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. Andrew chuckled as he sat down and studied Larry, pleased he could still make Larry blush. The pinkish flush of his cheeks, along with his smile and accompanying dimples were, he thought, two of Larry's most endearing features. He was much like Phalen, a little boy in an adult's body.
"I've not heard from you lately, handsome." Larry seemed to be caught off-guard by Andrew's use of his old term of endearment. "How are you and your young architect doing?" Larry leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath.
"Andrew, I'm going to prevail upon you for some advice."
"As a psychiatrist, I don't give advice, Larry. You know that. I listen and help a person come to a solution for a problem. The person decides what to do." Larry made a placating gesture.
"Now," Andrew continued, "what do you need to talk about? Are things going okay between you and Brad?" Larry shrugged.
"I don't know." He paused a moment and then amended his statement. "No, not really." Andrew leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and studied the man across from him.
"Brad's not over Curt yet. I don't think he ever will be." The sunny office suddenly didn't seem quite as cheery as it had a few minutes earlier. "I've tried to keep myself from falling in love with him . . . without a whole lot of success." Larry sighed, idly rotating his chair from side to side.
"I'm thinking that the best thing I could do for both of us would be to . . . let him know that it's okay to leave. At least that way he would be free to find his own way. Right now, I believe he stays with me because he's feeling indebted to me for providing him a place to stay after he left Jeff's." Larry stopped a moment and then continued. "I shouldn't have said that. I'm not being fair to him. He's such a sensitive guy, I think he may be fearing he'll hurt me." Larry took a deep breath and released it slowly.
"He will hurt me if he leaves, but I don't want to keep him from doing what he would like to do, either."
Andrew continued to lean forward, resting his elbows on his knees, seriously taking in everything Larry said.
"Well, what do you think?"
Andrew sat back in his chair and sighed. "I think you've pretty much decided what you want to do. I'm very sorry it hasn't worked out the way you hoped. Brad is such a wonderful guy . . . as are you."
Brad tried to scoot closer, draping an arm over Larry's bare chest. Even in the darkened room, he could see Larry's contented smile, a reaction to their just-completed lovemaking as well as the infectious laughter coming from next door. It seemed as if Phalen, Jeff and Greg were having a very good time.
Life was good. His job at the architecture school was going well. Larry was enjoying his new job immensely, and their love life was close to perfect. He should have been happy.
"Counselor?" Brad spoke from where he had nestled his head in the crook of Larry's shoulder. He inhaled deeply of the mingled sweat of both their bodies, as much a sensuous experience as feeling Larry's naked body next to his. He could feel his penis stir at the thoughts of feeling Larry's weight atop him, of feeling Larry penetrate him, of the taste . . . and feel, of Larry's tongue, lapping at his hole, teasing his nipples and tongue as they kissed. Larry was such a wonderful kisser. He could almost cum with nothing more than the feel of Larry's tongue in his mouth, and the low sounds of pleasure he made as passion overtook them both.
"Counselor," he repeated. Larry tenderly ran his fingers through Brad's still-damp hair.
"Hmmm?"
"What are we going to do . . . about us, I mean" Larry's fingers hesitated and then continued. Brad could feel his breathing change.
"I don't know." He drew Brad close, with an arm around his shoulder. "You tell me what you want. That's what we'll do."
Brad shifted position, propping himself up on his elbows and gave Larry a bewildered look.
"That's not fair. What if what I want isn't what you want? We need to have some sort of discussion so we have a meeting of minds . . . or something. Don't you think?"
"What is it you want, Brad?" Larry continued to lie on his back, his head turned to look at Brad, only inches away. "Have you given it any thought? Do you know?" Brad once again rested his head on Larry's chest, feeling his slow breathing, and nodded.
"I've thought about it a lot. Sometimes, it seems as if that's all I think about."
"And . . ."
"I want to love you, Larry. I want it more than . . . just about . . . anything."
"But . . ."
Brad bit his lip. His next words would forever change his relationship with Larry.
"But," Larry repeated, trying to coax a response.
"But, I don't." Brad's voice broke, and he took a ragged breath as Larry continued to caress his shoulder.
"Shhhh, it's okay." Larry kissed the top of Brad's head. "Really."
Brad once again propped himself up on his elbows. "No it's not okay! You're the most wonderful man I have ever known. You are everything I want in a man. You listen to me. You laugh and joke. We have lots in common. I have fun with you. I love our time together, whether we're trying to cook something, or having sex, or just sitting next to one another, holding hands. Like I said, you are everything I could possibly want."
"It's like I love you whenever I'm with you. But, when we're not together . . . I . . . don't. You're so good to me. I'm not being fair to you."
"Brad, listen to me, please. We're not talking about what either one of us thinks is fair. Love doesn't follow those type of rules. What solution have you arrived at, since you've thought so much about this? Have you thought of one?"
"I don't know. Maybe we've not been together long enough. I'm always away at work, or you are. We've had to catch our time together. Maybe . . . with some more time . . ."
"You might grow to love me?"
Brad reluctantly nodded. "Yes."
"Do you think such a thing is likely to happen?"
Brad sounded like a little boy. "I don't know. Maybe."
"Tell me, Brad. What are you afraid of? Are you afraid if we continue on as we have been that you will never love me, that you'll end up feeling trapped . . . what?"
"I'm afraid of hurting you. I don't want to. I know what it's like to hurt because of the actions of someone you love. You do love me . . . don't you? You haven't said anything, but I can tell. I don't want to hurt you." The last words seemed wrenched out of him.
"Shhhh." Larry tried to keep both his voice and fingers from shaking; his voice as he spoke, his fingers as he tried to comfort Brad. "All of us live with hurt, Brad. If we stop to examine things, we're all hurting about something, most of which we have no control over."
"Yes, I love you," Larry continued. "I've tried not to, but I do. But, loving you is not a . . . a . . . rope, I can use to tie you to me. What kind of love would that be, to know you're staying with me only because I somehow coerced you? I would be taking advantage of your fear of hurting me to keep you close. You speak of fairness. That would certainly not be fair."
"You don't need me to set you free, Brad. You need me to tell you I won't hurt if you leave. I can't do that." He gave Brad a wan smile in the dim light. "Now, don't look like that. You'll only make me want to cry and that just . . . wouldn't do." His voice trailed off.
They both stared into one another's eyes, memorizing the other, tucking the moment away in a secret corner, a fond memory to be recalled in a distant future.
He tilted Brad's head up with a finger under the chin and gave him a brave smile, ignoring the single tear that rolled down Brad's cheek.
"There. We've had our discussion, and as usual whenever I'm involved in any sort of discussion, I've done most of the discussing. 'Can't get a word in edgewise,' Phalen always complains. That's why he talks so much since he left home." One of Brad's tears landed on Larry's wrist and rolled off, onto the bed below. Still, he was able to give Larry a wavering smile.
"There, that's what I was hoping to see. A smile." He brushed another tear away with his forefinger and drew Brad's head down to his chest, one last time. He could already feel the letting go . . . the gradual withdrawal, leaving him with a feeling of deep melancholy.
"So, are we in agreement?"
Brad sniffed once and nodded slowly, clearly overcome with emotion. "Thank you, Larry. Friends?"
"More than friends, Brad. Always."
Brad stepped into the house and slowly closed the door behind him. His mother looked over her shoulder from where she was working on something at the kitchen counter and smiled.
"Brad, what a wonderful surprise." She wiped her hands on a dish towel and opened her arms for an embrace, instantly knowing something was wrong. "Larry," she asked, holding Brad at arm's length.
Brad heaved a ragged sigh, once again stepping into his mother's supportive embrace. She rubbed a comforting hand over his back as he rested his head on her shoulder and tried to control his emotions. He snorted a soft laugh.
"Mom, when you were a child, and you hurt your finger . . . or something bad happened, you'd think you had everything under control . . . until you'd see your mother? Then, whenever she put her arms around you and hugged, you'd want to cry?" She patted him in gentle understanding. "Well, that's the way I'm feeling, right now." He took a deep ragged breath.
"Mom, Larry and I have decided it's best for us not to try and be a . . . couple." His mother's hands hesitated only a second before continuing to try and comfort him.
"He loves me. I don't love him. I want to . . . I just . . . don't." Brad stepped out of his mother's embrace and turned his back on her. "He's so damned understanding!" He heaved a laugh. "I guess I'd feel better if he tried to make me feel guilty, or . . . something!" He pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and plopped down with a tired grunt, stretching his legs out in front of him.
"I feel like shit." He glanced up with a comic grimace. "Sorry 'bout the language." His mother made an understanding gesture.
"No you're not. That's how you feel. It's totally understandable, so there's no need to feel sorry." She pulled out a chair and sat opposite him.
"It seems to me as if you think you should feel guilty about . . . this decision, but you don't. Am I right?" Brad bowed his head, barely shrugging his agreement. "At the same time, you're feeling . . . relieved?" He glanced up. "Maybe, relieved, is too strong a word, but you know what I mean." If possible, Brad seemed to sink in upon himself even further.
"You love Larry, don't you," he asked. His mother nodded. "And Dad does, and all my brothers do!" Brad stood and walked across the kitchen, opening the refrigerator and poured himself a glass of cold water. "Hell, everyone loves Larry. He's intelligent, thoughtful, fun to be around, handsome, caring, playful . . . great in bed." His mother once again silently gestured her understanding as he downed the water in one continuous gulp and then set the glass down onto the kitchen counter with a clink.
"He's all the things I'm looking for in a partner. Hell, I even told you and Dad that very thing, not too long after Larry and I met. Well, he is all the things I'm looking for." Brad sat down once again and cradled his head as he leaned on the table with his elbows. "He's just not the person I'm looking for."
"Do you . . . happen, to know of such a person," his mother ventured.
Brad shrugged. "I don't know." The slow shake of his head became a single embarrassed nod. "I guess . . . I do."
"Curt?"
He slowly nodded.
"Yeah . . . Curt." Brad heaved a sigh. "The only problems is, I don't know if he still loves me."
'Finally, the weather is tolerable.' Even so, Greg was looking forward to getting home and changing into something more comfortable, something which left much more skin exposed. He shook his head in amazement. 'Only a few months ago, I couldn't have envisioned myself enjoying wearing no shoes, no shirt, and shorts! I have a long way to go though, before I'm comfortable running around naked, like Jeff and Phalen.'
He thought back to the encounter the three of them had in Jeff's sauna. It had been one of the most exciting things in his life, to watch his brother masturbate. Phalen had been pretty easy on the eyes, as well, he grinned to himself. He wondered if Jeff had been aware that he was the center of attention. The moment he saw Jeff's cock spew its first jet of sperm, his own orgasm had swept over him. The look on Jeff's face was . . . priceless. His eyes were closed, his mouth open wide, taking deep breaths as his hips automatically tried to thrust his erection through the encircling fingers.
It was wonderful to watch Jeff . . . and Phalen, but then to have Phalen extend his hand with its puddle of Jeff's sperm, encouraging him to lick it, created nightly fantasies! Greg shivered with the sensuousness of the act. Even now, if he closed his eyes, he could taste his brother's thick cum as he licked a broad swath across Phalen's palm. He would not have swallowed so soon if Phalen hadn't offered a sample of his own sperm in his other hand. Phalen's was . . . sweeter, thinner. Jeff's tasted much like his own, thick and slightly salty.
His feelings toward Jeff puzzled him. He had never been attracted to Jeff sexually while they were growing up. He shuddered, thinking how awful it would have been for Jeff had he made such an overture, considering his brother's childhood abuse at the hands of his second grade teacher. Every time Greg thought of what Jeff had had to go through he wanted to hit something. His parents should have realized something was going on. Someone should have!
Still, every time Jeff walked across the room, his flaccid penis swinging from side to side and his tight buttocks flexing, Greg found himself fantasizing what it might be like for the two of them to have sex. After each fantasy he chided himself for even thinking such things, but the fantasies continued.
'I'm just horny,' he thought. 'Most guys get all this out of their system when they're teenagers. Me, I have to wait until I'm nearly thirty!'
He turned the corner. Jeff's house lay at the far end of the palm-lined street, standing out from its neighbors because it was so different from them. He chuckled. 'It was just like Jeff, to do something different. Everyone thinks he's so timid!' Greg shook his head and smiled. 'Timid, my foot! The man is far more aggressive than even he is aware of. It just shows up in different ways. And,' Greg continued, returning to earlier thoughts. 'And, he's damned sexy.'
He frowned as, in the distance, he saw Larry kneeling on the sidewalk, digging something up. He'd stab the hand trowel into the earth and yank out a hapless plant before tossing it on a growing heap. Another stab . . . yank . . . toss, and another. He sat back on his heels and surveyed what he was doing, wiping his brow. 'It's not normal for Larry to be home so early in the afternoon.' Larry stood, adjusted his Arizona State baseball cap, and studied the plot of bare ground in front of him with his hands on his hips. A pile of forlorn greenery sat wilting on the sidewalk a few feet away. Nearby, a flat of bright yellow flowers sat awaiting planting.
Larry stretched, the sheen of perspiration glistening on the bare skin of his back and shoulders, and noticed Greg approaching. His face lit in a bright smile as he waved a greeting.
"Hey, Greg! How's it going?" He nodded to the plants waiting patiently at his feet. "I'm playing gardener this afternoon. It's been a while since I've had a chance to crawl around in the front yard and get all grubby." He lowered his voice, barely above a conspiratorial whisper. "Don't let the poor plants know, but I don't have a clue as to what I'm doing. The poor things are most likely destined to die of thirst, or a horrible illness I won't be able to diagnose." His dark blue eyes sparkled as he chuckled at his own joke.
"I'm surprised you're home so early." Greg watched, transfixed by a bead of sweat as it made a glistening trail over Larry's chest and down his belly, finally disappearing in the waistband of his running shorts. He guiltily returned his attention to the man in front of him.
"Yeah, well. . ." The sparkle in Larry's eyes was gone, as was the smile.
"What's wrong? Is it the new job? I thought you were thrilled with it."
Larry took off the baseball cap and ran his fingers through his sweat-damp hair. "No, nothing's wrong with the job. It's good though that my boss is gay. He told me to take a few days off."
"Why? What happened?"
"Greg, Brad and I split up last night." He hurried on before Greg could collect his thoughts and offer some sort of condolences. "It's probably the best thing to do for both of us, though right now it's pretty rough. I imagine he's feeling worse. The man is determined to feel guilty."
Greg reached out and squeezed Larry's shoulder in understanding. There was really nothing he could say to make things easier. It wasn't as if he were totally shocked by the separation. He hoped Larry had not detected his hesitation as a thought occurred to him.
'Larry and Brad have started a domino effect, I think. It's only a matter of time until Brad gets in touch with Curt.' He glanced at Larry with a slightly guilty smile.
"I hope both of you find the person that is right." He glanced down at the yellow flowering plants. "Do those have to be stuck in the ground, right now?" Larry shook his head, replacing the baseball cap.
"Then, let's clean this up and you can come over for a beer . . . or four . . ."
~ to be continued ~
Thank you for taking the time to read my work. I always welcome your email and enjoy hearing your thoughts. If you would like me to send a pic of the character(s), please ask.
In addition to the first 'Phalen' story, I have three other stories you may want to read. 'Leith,' and 'Chris' are located in the Nifty College Section. The third story is called 'Wesley', and is located in the Adult Relationships section. I hope you enjoy them all.
Best wishes,
Roy Reinikainen roynm@mac.com suomalainen_abq@mac.com