Ring in Mine
Kim Terry
Sorry I've been slow posting. I was in an auto accident that played havoc with the plate in the neck. I have the next couple of chapters back from Zach, who graciously proofreads them for me and adds great insights. I will post them as quickly as nifty will allow.
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Kim ----------
Ring in Mine: John Chapter 20: Mark
Mark was finding life more difficult than John. The first time Mark saw John in the P.E. building, he quickly became angry. It was John's fault that he was sleeping in an empty bed. John had brought shame upon Mark with his professional peers. He wanted to stomp over to his boy and shake some sense into him. He was thirteen and should obey his father. Mark was halfway across the gym before a hand rested on his shoulder.
`Stop. Breathe. Think.' Mark turned around finding no one there. With his anger diffused he turned back to his students and continued his class.
The first time Mark saw John climb the rope he was startled. Mark had never been able to climb without his feet. Only a few feet from the top on his downward climb John stopped. Out of concern Mark started toward the rope. When John held himself straight out from the rope, then turned himself upside down and climbed down headfirst with only his good leg wrapped around the rope for stability, Mark's mouth hung open. How had he missed his son's strength. The onlookers broke into applause.
The week-long program was focused on intense training in how to direct anger into useful paths. There were long sessions to determine the real cause of his rage. Mark initially hated the group sessions. As he realized that no one looked down on him he opened up and participated somewhat reluctantly
By the fourth day Mark' counselor wasn't very optimistic about Mark's success. Mark could talk the talk but until he accepted that he was responsible for his anger, all the counseling would not solve the problem. When he lost his temper, it was John's fault, or Ruth's or even Marcus'. He struggled with taking responsibility for his anger and especially his inappropriate response to that anger.
Five days into the program Mark's counselor expressed his concerns about Mark's lack of significant progress. Mark's response was typical Mark.
"I am doing everything you have asked of me. If I'm not making progress, then maybe it's a problem with your program." Mark was angry. He stormed out of the session slamming the door behind him. He had not settled down come bedtime. The older fellow in the next room stopped to talk.
"Mark, I feel so sorry for you. I've been alone most of my life because no one wanted to be around me. I've lost more than one job because of my temper." He wasn't giving Mark a chance to interrupt. "I've found someone to be a companion for the rest of my life. Through him I also found a loving God. This is my last chance. I've wasted too much of my life already."
Mark stopped listening when he realized this man loved another man, yet he still had found God.
"You say you believe in God. Tonight I dare you to get on your knees and ask for his help. What have you got to lose?" The older man asked.
The gentleman closed Mark's door softly as he left. `How dare this old queer lecture him?' Mark had left that part of his life in the past and had not brought it up in any of the sessions. But then again what DID he have to lose?
Realization hit him like a bucket of cold water. His wife, his son, and even his job were on the line. Mark did something he hadn't done for years. He dropped to his knees. He bared his soul to his God. He stayed on his knees waiting for an answer to his prayer. He must have fallen asleep.
"It's about time you asked for some help. Your father really screwed with your head." Marcus sat on the edge of the bed looking down at Mark.
"John will tell you your dad is still a crotchety sad man, still blaming everyone for his miserable life. Nothing was ever his fault."
Marcus stood and extended his hand. "Are you going to kneel there all night? We've got things to do and places to see."
Mark stood and took his one time lover's hand in his. It felt so warm and real. He realized he was reacting sexually just holding Marcus's hand.
"Mark we don't have time for that." His angelic host chuckled; it had been a long time.
"I'm not sure if this is A Christmas Carol, or It's a Wonderful Life." Marcus had always loved old black and white movies.
"It can't be A Christmas Carol there is only one spirit and it can't be It's a Wonderful Life because when a bell rings angels don't get their wings." Marcus turned his back toward Mark. "See no wings."
This was classic Marcus. His stories never did make a lot of sense and Mark missed his friend and his stories. Mark wished this was more than just a dream. Marcus stopped and looked into Mark's eyes.
"Who said this was just a dream?" Marcus put one hand behind Mark's head pulling him in for a passionate kiss. His other hand caressed Mark's manhood through his pants. "Does that feel like a dream?"
The path they followed split into two. One was wide and mostly level. The other climbed a steep slope.
"This is where you stand today. It is time for a decision. Which way will you go?" Marcus asked.
Mark was silent. He knew it was a trick question. Weren't the best results always on the harder path in puzzles like this?
"I'm even going to give you a peek down the road." Marcus offered.
Marcus did his pulling back the landscape trick revealing a much older Mark sitting in a room with other old people. No one spoke to him. The sadness was obvious.
Marcus then revealed the destination for the steep path. The gray-haired Mark sat by his wife. They were surrounded by their grandchildren and great children. There was noise, chaos and happiness.
"Choose!" Marcus ordered.
Mark's eyes were filled with tears. He knew what he wanted. Could he pay the price? Mark's father had set the example. Showing anger was part of being a man; a real man couldn't allow himself to be soft.
This must not have been a dream; when Marcus hit him up the back of the head it hurt.
"I guess I have failed. There is another spirit that might help you decide."
Mark heard a voice behind him that made his blood run cold.
"So here are the two fags. Mark you were always such a disappointment. If I'd known you were at that damn college screwing with this fairy, I would have beaten it out of you. I won't have a queer son. I would rather you were dead and in ..."
"Stop!" The voice stopped. Mark didn't even want to turn around and see his father. He had heard what his father had said and realized he had used the same lines.
Mark fell to his knees, closed his eyes in prayer. "Please Lord, don't let me be like my father!" He sobbed.
"Then take responsibility for your anger. You can get mad, but how you express it makes all the difference. Remember others have reasons behind their actions."
For just a moment he felt the terror his son had felt as Mark pushed him into the darkness telling him to be a man. Mark felt the despair of being attacked in the darkness. Mark felt the helplessness as his father stood over him swinging his belt in anger. For just a moment he understood. When he opened his eyes he was on his knees on the side of the bed.
Mark looked at the clock. It wasn't that late. He went looking for one of the counselors.
"Please help me to understand." Mark begged. They talked way into the night.
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