The usual disclaimers apply - ie. no reading this if you're not of age to read it, and no peeking at this if you can't stand gay people (which would bring to mind the question of what the hell you're doing reading this anyway).
An apology is in order to all you people out there who waited so patiently for me to continue this story. I can only hope that this'll hold you :) I wrote part 6 to "fill the gap" until I could get numbers 7 and 8 out, which is why it was so short.
All questions etc can be directed to dcross1@home.com
September 12, 1992
5:00 AM
Shane stood in a hall of mirrors which reached from the floor to the ceiling. The hall seemed to have no end in either direction, and the mirrors were all about four feet wide, and spaced apart 8 feet on either side. The hall itself was around 7 feet wide, and ten feet high. He looked around, wondering where he was, and how he could get out of there. So he picked a direction, and began walking. The walls were unwallpapered, but each eight foot by ten foot wall segment showed a different abstractly rendered mural. The first mirror he passed reflected his image back at him, as well as that of the other mirror directly across. So too did the other few mirror pairs.
Then, suddenly, as Shane walked by the sixth or seventh mirror pair, the reflection suddenly inverted in color - almost like a photographic negative. Shocked, Shane approached the mirror which was on his right hand side. He put his palm to the mirror, but felt nothing except the expected physical smoothness of the glass. Yet the image stubbornly stayed reversed in color.
Shane walked briskly to the next mirror-pair, hoping that the sight he had witnessed previously was just an aberration. This time, however, the reflection was correct in color, but upside down! Rattled, he started running, as far and as fast as he could, not daring to look in any direction except ahead of him. Finally, when his energy gave out, he stopped, panting and gasping for air. Wearily, he looked up and noticed he was right in front of yet another mirror. What he saw made him yelp in fright and leap backwards a good three feet. In the mirror's reflection, moving exactly as he was, was Robin Peterson. Or if it wasn't him, it was the guy's spitting image.
Shane tentatively reached toward the mirror plane, unbelieving as his "mirror image" that was Robin reached towards the plane also. Their palms touched, and Shane felt a strange warmth begin to emanate from his palm. He took his hand away abruptly, and the warmth ceased. Confused, he put his hand to the mirror again, and the warmth resumed. He then received an even bigger surprise when he pushed further and his hand actually went THROUGH the mirror - and the warmth began to envelop the portion of his arm that was "behind" the mirror.
Shane strode forward, and just as his face touched the mirror...
POOF!
Shane sat up, breathing heavily. He was in his bed, and it was still dark out. He looked wildly around his room for his alarm clock; he focussed, saw that the time was 5:17 AM. He rubbed his face, and found that his forehead was sweaty. He wiped the sweat off with his pajama sleeve and breathed a long sigh of relief. He lay back, his head on the pillow, his eyes searching the ceiling for some answer to this mystery. He felt his heart rate go back to normal; his body heat seemed to lessen somewhat.
"Robin, who are you, that I should be mindful of you?" Shane asked himself. Since no answer was forthcoming, he decided to meet Robin up close, face to face. But how in the blazes was he going to accomplish that? He considered several avenues, and then decided, for lack of anything better, to use the old standby. He would "need help" with his Biology assignment. In actual fact it looked like it was a piece of cake, but what the hell. It sounded better than an anonymous note.
He rose from his bed, and changed into a jogging outfit. He left the house, and ran west, his back to the twilight...
6:00 AM
Shane returned to the front door, breathing heavily again, this time from his physical exertions. He unlocked the door, stepped inside, and gasped when he saw his father sitting at the kitchen table; in semidarkness, his father looked almost like the Soviet judges sometimes seen in old movies, pronouncing harsh sentences after show trials. For an irrational moment, he feared that his secret had been revealed, but as it turned out his suspicions were unwarranted.
Don inquired, "You were out running?"
Shane nodded.
"Very well. Your mother and I have to go out all day today. We were asked last night to help out with the church social for new arrivals to this town whose children are going to school. So you can go out, do whatever you like, but remember: be back here by 10 o'clock PM. No later!"
"OK. I'll probably just catch up on my homework and do my chores."
His father didn't budge from his chair, and Shane, after a moment's hesitation, left to take a shower, then to tackle his homework assignments and chores.
9:00 AM
The muted roar of a car engine caught Shane's ear as he was finishing his Biology assignment. His mouth quirked as he thought of the ruse he was going to pull later on. He walked outside to see his parents' car idling as his mother was opening the passenger door. She looked up, smiled and waved, then sat in the car and closed the door. His father gave a curt nod and shifted into reverse. Twenty seconds later, they were gone.
Shane got out the telephone book and began searching for Robin's last name. He soon found it, and noted that it was the only one for which the address indicated that the family lived near Southgate. Mentally crossing his fingers, he dialled the number, and was rewarded when a rather chipper female voice answered. "Good morning, Peterson residence, Ann speaking."
"Good morning. Uh, this is Shane Wilson, one of Robin's classmates in Biology. Could I speak to him, please?"
"He's actually just finishing breakfast right now. Can I have him call you?"
"Sure." He gave his phone number, then said his goodbyes and hung up.
A few minutes later, the phone rang, and Shane picked up the handset to be greeted with a nervous, "Hello? Is Shane there?"
"This is Shane. Is this Robin?"
"Yup. Uh, my mom said something about you being in my Biology class?"
"Yeah. I was calling to ask if you knew how to do this assignment about classifying animals."
"Oh, that. Actually, I did it last night. You need some help?"
"That would be cool. I know this sort of sounds stupid, but I don't think doing this over the phone would work very well. Could you come here? Or I can go there."
The pause lengthened noticeably and Shane began to fear he'd set himself up for a big fall.
The receiver crackled back to life as Robin said, "I'll drive over. I need to get showered and dressed, though. Can I see you about 10 AM?"
"Sure." Shane gave the house address, then again said his goodbyes.
As he put the handset back onto the hook, he giggled and rubbed his hands. He couldn't help it; even if Robin turned out to be straight, he was going to get an eyeful of the guy "up close and personal" for the first time. He then carefully hid his actual assignment answers and spread out his Biology textbook and notebook on the kitchen table. He also went to his room and retrieved the library book Bad_Boy that he'd carefully stashed between the bed's box spring and mattress; he practically had to lift the entire thing up, as he'd placed it almost precisely in the middle to keep it from being discovered by his mother...
10:00 AM
Shane hadn't been this nervous and distracted since his first "date" with a girl, almost 3 years ago. Nothing had come of that, but it had been the first time Shane realized something was "wrong" with him. Now, though, he knew the answer and this "date" hopefully promised more than just going through the motions of something expected of him. Of course, this was ostensibly a get-help-on-a-homework-assignment sort of thing, not to mention a lot of Shane's future plans hinged on what he could find out about Robin.
He'd managed to wolf down a quick breakfast, barely tasting the cereal as he had chewed with a frenetic pace. He'd tried pacing around, doing some deep breathing, but none of that really helped.
A knock at the door completely shattered Shane's reverie and almost sent him stampeding to the door. Then he realized that it might seem extremely unusual for the sounds of fast running to carry through the door. Controlled and steady, he walked to the front door, grasped the handle and opened it to reveal Robin, wearing khaki shorts and a casual brown T-shirt, with a knapsack hanging off his shoulder. He grinned and said "Hi, Robin. Thanks for coming over." Automatically, he reached out to shake Robin's hand, and went weak in the knees as his hand felt the warmth radiating from the other's palm. Releasing his hand after the appropriate interval, he gestured toward the kitchen table and said, "I thought it best to get started right away."
Robin nodded and said, "I have my books right here as well, and it wasn't a problem to visit. I'd have ended up doing nothing today anyhow." He fished around in his knapsack for his notebook and turned to the assignment.
Shane interjected, "Can I get you anything to drink, by the way? I just realized I'm being a bad host."
Robin grinned and said, "No. Thanks for offering, though. So anyway, you wanted help with the assignment..."
10:45 AM
Shane nodded in apparent comprehension and said, "Ok, so the answer to the last classification question is that the avians are unique in having feathers?"
Robin said, "Yep. That's right! You almost didn't need me, you know. You seemed to pick it up pretty fast." He reached over and patted Shane on the shoulder. "Good work."
Shane loved the feeling of Robin's hand on his shoulder, which stayed there all too briefly. He then inwardly chuckled at how well he'd acted in "getting it". An Oscar performance this wasn't, but it was a good runner-up. He said, "Thanks again for the help. I couldn't think of anybody and then I remembered you, so I looked you up in the phone book."
Robin said, "On second thought, I could use that drink you offered right now. What do you have?"
Shane opened the fridge. "Let's see. Milk, apple juice, orange juice, Coke Classic... hmm. Looks like that's it."
"I'll take a Coke, if you don't mind."
Shane grabbed two cans, one for himself and one for Robin. He was still somewhat nervous, but didn't think Robin would notice. He handed a can to Robin and popped the top on his own, then took a swig. He then said, "Hey. I haven't toured you yet. C'mon, I'll show you around." He indicated the bedrooms, his parents' bathroom, the shared bathroom (which was really just a shower stall, toilet and sink crammed into a space not much larger than some closets), and the den which doubled as a family room.
Robin said, "Hmm. Looks kind of small, meaning no offence, that is."
Shane waved that off with a shake of his head and a negative gesture with his hand. "Don't worry about it. It's not much, and I'm an only child anyway. Wanna chill out in my room for a bit?"
Robin seemed to weigh something in his head, and then nodded and said, "Why not, eh? Lead the way."
Shane replied, "Oh no. After you, please." In stepping aside, he rested his hand on Robin's back for a second as he gestured toward the chair with his other hand. Was it his imagination, or did Robin shudder just a bit at that touch? Was that a good thing or a bad thing?
Shane reclined on his bed as Robin sat on the chair, facing him. Robin looked around and said, "No Bibles?"
"Nope. I'm not a 'believer'. Don't tell my Dad that, though. He'd hit the roof and maybe the moon before coming back down."
Robin chuckled. "I promise to keep it real quiet." He mimed zipping his lips and winked.
Shane frowned momentarily. "What made you say that, anyway? I know my dad's well-known in religious circles here, but he hasn't really been famous or anything."
"Oh, I... just heard, that's all." Robin looked discomfited and shifted in the chair. He looked around again, and seemed to take in the room more closely. He pulled the book Bad_Boy off the desk and idly read the back cover. He put the book back down and lifted his eyebrow at Shane.
"Yes?"
"'teenage sexuality'? That doesn't sound like just any novel." Robin gave him the hairy eyeball.
Shane grinned, and said, "All right, all right. So I like reading about people in unusual circumstances. Is that supposed to make me an awful guy?"
"Just seemed interesting, that's all. So you've read it?"
"Partway through. It's really intriguing, actually."
"Mrm. Well now I know what book to read if I'm ever bored." Robin smiled again, and Shane found himself getting lost in the beauty of Robin's face. Reflecting over events since Robin's arrival at the doorstep, it occurred to him that he had seen flashes of moodiness in Robin's eyes. He wondered why a guy who seemed to have a much better family situation would have anything wrong with himself.
Shane refocussed on the conversation at hand. "Hey. What do your parents do?"
"My dad's an insurance agent, actually. My mom occasionally works as a free-lance accountant. It means she gets to stay home and do 'domestic' things, but also to do work of her own. She doesn't mind."
Shane wistfully noted, "They seem pretty nice."
"Yeah, they are. They've helped me out a lot recently and I really don't know what I'd have done without them."
Shane's curiosity could not be restrained. "Mind if I ask why?" He hastened to add, "But it's OK if you'd rather not say."
"Actually I would like to keep that private, but what makes you ask me that?"
"My parents don't seem to be that great, honestly. My mom works at a real estate agency and my dad's the general manager dowm at the pulp mill. So we're certainly not poor. But they don't seem to know how to interact with me. I'd be hard-pressed to remember a time when my dad sat down and actually talked with me. Most of the time I'm expected to shut up and listen to him pontificate, or answer a direct question from him." Frustrated, Shane slapped the bed and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. He abruptly realized he was talking to Robin, and said, "Um, sorry about that. I didn't mean-"
"It's OK. Really. I get frustrated sometimes, too." There was that moodiness again in Robin's eyes. Shane's guess about Robin's sexuality ratcheted up another notch on the 'possibly true' meter.
Shane sighed. "Yeah. So I asked you because I don't know what possible circumstances would force me to ever actually share anything with my dad. It's like looking into another world, sometimes, seeing real families with real people, you know?" He felt like he was fencing, somehow. No. Shadow-boxing. He thought he knew what his target was, but to get there, he had to endure a ritual similar to some he'd read about in Indian bands before they had contacted Europeans; he was forced to go through the motions laid down by unspoken rules in regard to self-preservation, just like certain coming-of-age rituals in Indian bands required the initiate to go through the motions to attain a status which he already knew would be his if completed properly.
Robin nodded. "Do you ever have to act like you're somebody you're not? Having to attend church and stuff like that?"
Shane decided to take a gamble. "Yeah. I have to do that every Sunday. But there are other aspects to the whole acting-like-someone-you're-not thing that I have to go through as well."
Robin was taken aback. "What do you mean?"
Shane's eyes never left Robin's as he launched into his speech. "I think you know what I mean. You wake up every morning and you look at yourself in the mirror and you ask 'Why?' and nobody ever answers. You dream strange dreams where people who aren't supposed to be in them show up and touch your deepest self. You seek your true self, while the whole world tries to deny you the right to do so."
Robin's eyes betrayed him. They flickered, then blinked. But his voice was steady. "Maybe I do know what you mean, and maybe I don't. I'd rather not take a guess as to what it is, though."
Shane was infuriated by this chess game, and stood up. "Goddamnit, stop playing games! There's a reason why I don't believe in God, and it's not just because I saw the illogic of religion." Throwing all caution to the winds, he strode briskly to the den, which had one bookshelf, replete with religious materials of all kinds. He picked up the Revised Standard Version of the Bible.
Upon re-entering his room, Shane noted that Robin had stood up with a puzzled expression on his face. Shane said, "Read the section I tell you to." He flipped the Bible open to Leviticus, and pointed at Chapter 18, Verse 22.
Robin's face showed an illumination so profound and shocking at the same time that Shane feared he'd lost. Lost the biggest gamble of his life. He steeled himself for the rejection he knew he would face for guessing wrong.
Robin closed the Bible, and placed it on the desk beside Bad_Boy. He asked one simple, probing question that was more of an affirmation. To Shane, it seemed to come from the end of a long tunnel. "So you're gay?"
Shane weakly nodded. Wrenching at his voice to keep it under control, he half-spoke, half-sobbed, "Yes. I am. You probably hate me now. Go. I don't care. Tell everybody at school. Hell, tell my dad." He knew he was making a spectacle of himself and couldn't be bothered to care.
Robin shook his head no. Shane was too scared and distraught to notice. The voice in the tunnel spoke again. "Shane, that's not what I'm going to do. Listen to me." Pause. "I'm gay, too."
Shane's head snapped up as though he'd heard a train coming directly toward him. "What?"
"You heard me, buster." Robin smiled and reached out for Shane's hands, enclosing them in his own. He could feel Robin's warm hands trembling, and understood the effort it had taken to express understanding and affection that way.
Shane shakily breathed a sigh of immense relief. He could only nod to the bed, indicating he needed to sit down. He released Robin's hands and sat on the edge of the bed, near the pillows. He looked to his side to find Robin already sitting beside him.
Robin giggled, and Shane said, "What? What's so funny?"
Robin replied, "I should have figured this out before now. You didn't need help with that assignment! You just wanted to get me over here so you could hit on me!" At that point, his eyes twinkled and he started laughing. Shane joined him, and gasped out, "Yeah. I admit it."
A minute later, Shane soberly remarked, "By the way, I wasn't kidding about dreams. You... you were in one I had this morning."
"Holy shit! You too!?"
Shane was startled. "What's all that about?"
Robin excitedly related his own dream in rapid-fire speech. "I was in this room, with one light shining down on me. Then a little bit later, a mirror materialized in front of me. At first I saw nothing, then you just popped up in the mirror. I jumped back, surprised. Then I reached out to touch the mirror, and my hand got warm. I took it away, and the warmth stopped. Then I reached out again and put my hand through the mirror, and my hand and part of my arm felt warm! Then I walked up to the mirror, and just as I was about to walk through it, I woke up."
Shane was flabbergasted. "You're kidding me. What time was it when you woke up?"
"Um, I remember looking at my clock, it said 5:20 AM."
"No way. This is too unreal." He proceeded to relate his own dream, and ended with, "...I woke up, and my clock said 5:17 AM."
Robin in turn looked shell-shocked. He cleared his throat, and then said, "I have a confession to make. You've been in my dreams before, too." He went on to briefly describe the recurring dream he occasionally had.
The two of them could only begin to fathom the implications of all this. Shane looked at the clock. It read 12:00. He realized he didn't have infinite time left, and needed to take the opportunity now. He turned his head, looking directly into Robin's eyes. He murmured, "You know, ever since you came over your eyes looked moody every now and then, like you had the weight of the world on your shoulders. But after I told you I was gay, that's vanished. All I see is liveliness."
Robin blushed and could not speak.
Shane leaned in closer, so their noses almost touched. "Would it be out of line for me to ask you for a kiss?" He smiled.
Robin smiled in return, and whispered huskily, "Not at all."
Shane tilted his head somewhat to the right, opening his lips slightly as they grazed Robin's lips and made contact. Their mouths mutually closed on each others' lips, as the kiss grew deeper and prolonged. The sensation of warm wetness over Shane's lips was a new, intoxicating thing, and he unconsciously began thrusting his tongue out to touch Robin's.
Eventually they had to come up for air, and said "Wow!" at the same time, then giggled.
Shane hesitantly reached up, and brought his fingers to rest on Robin's hair. A nod gave all the permission he needed, as he ran his hand through the luxuriant brown curls. He then stroked Robin's cheek, tracing his finger along Robin's jawline. A hand on his head made him jerk his finger away, even as he realized it was just Robin. Robin similarly ran his hand through Shane's hair, then traced his finger across Shane's forehead and down his nose, to tap the tip playfully...
That ends part 7. Cliffhanger. You hate it, I love it, but don't go away. Robin's point of view coming right up!