That's with An "E", by John Windham: email vindskinke@hotmail.com
Chapter Two
I could not abide using a "fake" name (Jon Jensen) as the one responsible for this first attempt at writing. This will allow all the writers that I have harassed thru the years about their stories a chance to reciprocate. No more obfuscation here is John Windham ready for the sticks and stones or whatever you might have to throw.
I apologize for being repetitious but plaudits go to Peter for editing and his unstinting support. His friendship is my treasure. The correct sections are his less than correct are all mine.
This story is about the love that two men find rather tried to find. That by virtue of its nature means it is a homosexual story. If you find this offensive then please do not read any further.
November 27, 2002
"Well by all rights I think the answer to that question should be Brandon's," demurred Lars with a mischievous smile.
With a bogus wail of despair Brandon stuttered, "I just don't think it is fair for the two of you to gang up on me like this. John, I had coffee ready and juice out before you left to go birding. Lars would still be asleep if I had not served him `morgenmad' in bed. And now the only appreciation I get is to be made light of by the two of you."
"Oh bumpkins maybe one of John's exceptional brunches will assuage your hurt. While I am cooking why don't you two enjoy this beautiful autumn morning with a stroll down to the pond."
Lars trying to hide a smile reaches out his hand for Brandon's, "come with me you poor abused baby; we will get out of John's way."
Brandon's whole face blooms as it is transformed by an all-encompassing smile as their hands join in mutual accord. After they turn going outside John's features soften as he watches the two walking away. It's obvious to him by their intermittent blunders as shoulders and feet collide that the search has begun. The two are striving for the harmony that sometimes inaugurates the dynamics between young lovers. A beatific smile illuminates his features as the two disappear down the path framed by sumacs scarlet and sassafras's glistening gold fall coloration.
"I wonder if I might be just a bit too forward and pushy with the two of them. It would break my heart to see either of them hurt. Hope, I will hope and trust my instincts that my actions are justified bringing them together."
"Does John's `mothering' bother you?"
Lars gives Brandon a contemplatively tentative smile, "bother is not the word I would use but rather meddlesome might be more accurate."
"No, Lars you are absolutely wrong. He is the most caring and giving man I know. He would never do anything to intrude or hurt one of his `family'. I consider my self indeed fortunate to have him as my friend. I am hoping that I can say our friend soon."
"Why are you so defensive about John?"
"I am not defensive. Let's just drop the subject."
Brandon looks away as they walk down the path, "look there is the first camellia I have seen this fall. Do you know that they bloom all thru the winter? It is one of the joys of living here; we have these glorious plants producing flowers in colors ranging from white to luscious dark red. John's place here has plants that go back generations. The plants are extremely long lived when cared for properly. There is a seedling that was created by and named for his dead lover's father but it does not bloom until the first of December."
"The flower immortalized by Alexander Dumas. Even Verdi capitalized on its ephemeral, fragility and beauty. Do you know the name of his opera, The Lady Gone Astray?"
"La Traviata"
"So you do know opera, Brandon Whiteside."
"I have had the best of teachers."
"Brandon, I did not mean to hurt your feelings about John. I am too blunt. In Danmark one does not obfuscate things as you do here. You say it like it is and do not mince words. We have a culture that prides itself on privacy and not being intrusive. For instance in America pictures are taken of everything and everyone unlike at home where we would never presume to take `candid shots' but rather only family and friends that are comfortable with your camera. I think that it is a mistake for us to rush into things when we have so many cultural differences to bridge. Don't you think that perhaps we should step back and be more sensible in our actions?"
"Look at this bloom, it seems almost perfect. The shimmering translucence of the pink pedals and the gold centers just begging us to notice and appreciate them will serve as an example and symbol. I feel that way about you. Something special that should be appreciated. Why retreat when I do not think much progress has been achieved. I am so confused. I thought you felt some of what I feel; our kisses seemed so uniquely ours. That we had a common ground that we could comfortably share our experiences not deny our feelings. Now you dissemble and hesitate as if nothing special has happened. Is all of this in my imagination? The transforming magic I feel when we were, are, together, is it all a travesty and a mistake? What is happening here? Am I loosing touch with reality?"
"Brandon it is just that I think we are being precipitous in our actions and not properly considering the consequences."
"Let's go back in and see what John is doing. I do not have much appetite and I should let him know."
John, looking out the window over the sink sees the two boys returning. No longer are their hands together but a calculated distance is kept between the two. "What on earth has happened? It has only been minutes since they left and now they return with a barrier between them. I should not have been so smug about my success with those two. What am I to do now? They look as unremittingly grim as they try to talk to each other. I guess they want to spare my feelings. How can I help, oh, Lord what is to be done?"
"John, I hope you have not started brunch because I think I have a `bug' of some kind. It is going around the University and I thought I had missed it but no such luck. I really must go back and just rest to see if I can get over this before the exams next week. Lars I will be glad to drop you off if you want to head back."
"Brandon should I call Doctor B. he will come over and check you over without giving it another thought. He is only one house over from us here."
"No, oh, no, that is not necessary I think just some rest will be enough and if not I will go to the infirmary. I would not think of disturbing that sweet man. I will be fine. I really am sorry to be such a party pooper, will you please forgive me?"
"Dear boy you must know that you could never do anything that would offend me. You are one of my dearest boys. Brandon do you feel like driving because I will be more than happy to drive you."
"Please, I am just going to go now. Lars I am glad that I met you. Let me know if I can ever help you around the University or if you need transportation. Here is my phone number and email address. John as always it has been a treat to spend time here in your sanctuary away from the craziness of the routine that binds us so tightly."
"Good bye Brandon, I had not expected anything like meeting you. I appreciate your contact numbers. Maybe we will spend some time together again."
Goddamn, mother fuck^Å^Å^Å.how on earth did all of this go so wrong. That man just turned his back on me as if I did not exist. The delicate, so tender loveliness we had achieved in our kisses seemed such a good foundation. I know that I may have rushed things but since he is so special I did not want him to disappear. Now the whole thing is in shambles without any hope of an understanding or progress. John must think that I am crazy the way I fled the house but he has no idea of what happened. I feel like I am going to throw up. What have I done wrong? Shit, this whole thing stinks. I have lost him without even getting a chance.
"Lars would you please be so kind as to tell an old man what in the hell is going on."
How in the fuck would I know what is going on? That brash man just ran without any thought to the circumstances or relevant factors. I just wanted a deliberate and considered evaluation of the situation. Is that too much to ask? I think not!
"John with all due respect I think that you are too close to Brandon to understand the situation."
"Lars you are a pompous as^Å"
"I apologize you are my guest, it is unforgivable to be so rude. Would you like some brunch I have all the makings here at hand."
"Doesn't this `Southern good manners' thing get old sometimes?"
"I have welcomed you into my family and have treasured your contributions but this is about as much as I can abide. You seem to relish your disdain for our manners and decorum. It is your unmitigated hubris that will be your undoing and lead to your failure here. You pride yourself on your command of Southern idioms but you have no idea what is going on, instead you have a construct that is deadly inaccurate and woefully off the target. Perhaps your teachers at home will be as poorly informed as you and it will not matter. If you should ever decide that you might reconsider your ideas and pronouncements I will be more than happy to welcome you back. But in all truth until you change I think it best that you spare yourself from the ignominy of more association with us. I will be ready to give you a ride back in about 5 minutes. I have to run some errands in that part of town anyway."
Lars looks at his reflection in the window after he has gathered up his few things. He sees a man, shocked to the core, one who is bereft of all that he thought he was achieving. He is numb from the reaction to his actions that he had considered mundane. Where had he gone astray? If this had been Danmark none of it would have happened, why had he come to this blighted country where democracy is a matter of 5 Supreme Court judges awarding the looser the presidency of the nation. He should have stayed in his safe and secure room in the dormitory. Layers of administration and rigid conformity would have protected him.
"Lars, do you want me to drop you off at the dorm or someplace else?"
"The dorm will be fine thank you."
There was a distinctly different affect between the two of them even though they both were striving for a semblance of normality. John was sitting stiffly behind the wheel of his car with the CD player filling the car with the strains of Tristan and Isolde. Lars was obviously uncomfortable staring out the window at the passing scenery, anything rather than a conversation with John. He was sitting with his lips grimly set in a truculent line his ramrod posture said it all. Both John and Lars were so inflexibly rigid that a sudden stop would have caused both to shatter, like an icicle on concrete.
"Here is your dorm, Lars; I really don't know what to say. I deeply regret anything that I might have done which could have precipitated this calamity. Call me if you have any problems or there is anything that I can help with here at school."
"Thank you for the offer but I seriously doubt that I will need any further assistance. You have been a gracious host and I appreciate all that you have done."
God He was happy to be out of that car and that howling deafening music. What a nightmare this whole thing had become. He had seldom been as uncomfortable actually miserable would be a better moniker for this past 24 hours. He knew that this situation would be a disastrous mistake. Inge would find this entire minuet comically ludicrous, but he had no intention to ever tell her or anyone. He needed to forget this nightmare. He was going to his room and would not under any circumstance answer the phone all he wanted was his solitude.
John watched as Lars walked thru the doors to his dorm without turning. He sat in his car for several minutes looking at the doors. Not caring who was looking he wiped his eyes with his handkerchief and blew his nose. He had seldom been involved with anything in his life with such a disastrous denouement. He would call Brandon and check on him later when he got back home. Brandon, that sweet oh so vulnerable boy, how was he going to be able to help him thru this. He had experienced life's cruel twists as well as its benevolent ones and had made it to 60. He had so hoped to spare his young "protégé" some of the heartache but alas it was not to be
God his room looked so barren even sterile. No, he was not going to think about that house! He was going to expunge the whole experience from his memory. He turned to his CD player and put on Mozart's Piano Concerto No.25 with de Larrocha's magisterially poised playing. This was a guaranteed balm for his worries. He was determined to relax. He sat in the most comfortable chair but could not seem to find the best position. After squirming for several minutes and still uncomfortable he laid down on his bed to continue reading. He put more pillows under his head. He removed all but one pillow. Turning on his side toward the window and better light he was still restive. God could he never be comfortable what on earth would it take. OK, I will get on my bike and explore for 2 or 3 hours that should make it easier to relax.
"Hey there sweet boy, how are you feeling? Are you still suffering from the `bug' so many are experiencing?"
"I am not sick, at least physically. What did I do wrong? It was like dealing with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. John he was so wonderful and his kisses were the stuff poets' only dream about. I thought that we were meant to be friends, more than friends. I am so miserably unhappy and disappointed."
John could hear the muffled crying and it broke his heart, "Brandon I will be over to pick you up in 20 minutes I need company. Bring what books you need to study because you are spending a few days with me."
Sighing in resignation Brandon realized it would be futile to argue, "thank you John I will be out front waiting you will not need to find a parking place." He smiled to himself hanging up the phone realizing he was not only relieved but also comforted by John's edict. He packed what he needed for school and some comfortable clothes. He did not overlook his `birding' boots knowing that he would be accompanying his host on his forays. After a desultory glance around his room he walked out to meet John. He did not realize he did not hear much less acknowledge the greetings from others. This caused several to notice his uncharacteristic demeanor. He sat on the bike stand by the street oblivious to the worried glances from his friends. His mind was miles away embroiled in the topsy-turvy chaos of recent events.
John became more concerned when his second beep was unheard by Brandon. He appeared to be in a trance unresponsive to external stimuli. He put his emergency blinkers on so that he could retrieve Brandon. When a gentle tap failed he gave him a vigorous shake that made Brandon cry out in dazed alarm. Realizing who it was Brandon started quietly crying as he was guided into the car. John turned the car around heading for home and decided he would not intrude into Brandon's dilemma just now. He obviously needed a refuge with some quiet and comfort both of which John was more than happy to give. At the next stoplight they were both startled to see Lars on a bicycle riding in a haphazard way unaware of the cars around him. When the light changed they drove past as Brandon turned watching the boy on the bike until he was lost in the distance. He leaned his forehead against the window as the tears continued. He started to tremble as if he was cold even in the toasty warm car. It seemed to John that the trip home would never end until the familiar white fence came into view as they rounded the last curve. Turning into the gate triggered racking sobs with such ferocious shaking that it so unnerved John he forgot to brake as his car became one with a huge pine tree. This rather more than abrupt stop made both of them gasp as they were thrown against the constraints of their seat belts. Unfortunately the groceries, books and miscellaneous paraphernalia was not constrained and crashed about them into the windshield. As they sat stunned into inaction cans started to explode as geysers of Pepsi sprayed in all directions. The drifts of cake flour and extra fine sugar now took on a sinister quality as it coalesced into a coating that seemed to acquire sentient animation as it moved about the cars interior. The cracked bottle of red food coloring usually so inconspicuous surreptitiously joined forces with the battalions of Pepsi. This serendipitous confluence of events transformed their minor accident into an event of seismic magnitude. In the bewildered silence as they tried to clear their eyes to better assess the extent of their accident they were alarmed to hear a sinisterly sibilant sound. They looked in the direction of each other and both nodding in agreement said in unison, "let's get out of here." They both were trying frantically to extricate themselves from the slimy slippery once shiny buckles and straps that so efficiently held them. The harder they struggled the more securely they were held. The once faint hiss metamorphosed into cacophonous eructation's accompanied by ever increasingly desperate struggles. Providence finally smiled and both latches released. Like tadpoles on a mud flat they wiggled out of the car just as the air bags exploded. They looked at each other over the top of the crippled car in stunned incredulity. Out of nowhere they both dissolved in a wildly uncontrolled deluge of laughter giddily tittering on the edge of hysteria. Trying to scrape the rapidly coagulating goop they noticed the sprinkler John had left to water his winter garden. It was definitely not comfortably warm but not so cold that it was an impossible idea. They gingerly nodded in agreement so John turned the sprinkler off at the house while Brandon disconnected it from the hose. John turned the water on so Brandon scrunched up his face in determination and started the cleansing operation. It was fortuitous that they were in the driveway because the rivulets of the gummy concoction flowed directly into the drain. The car was not so fortunate because the rapidly hardening chitinous concoction coating virtually the entire interior was forming a carapace worthy of "Mothra's" prodigious progeny vintage 1962. When the worst of the gluey mess was washed off and the giggles effectively squelched by the cold water they both started taking off their impossibly soaked clothes. This was not the time for a schoolboy's blushing modesty as layer after layer was piled in a gelatinous mass by the drain.
"Ok Brandon, we will leave all of this nasty mess here and forget the car. No one can see us so relax and follow me. We will get some towels in the utility room to dry off enough not to mess up the carpets. You use the shower in your room from last nite. I will see you in a few minutes in the library and we will have a roaring fire to restore our humanity or at least make a valiant effort trying."
"John I am so sorry I caused all of this, how can I ever compensate you for this disaster. Your new car is a disaster and how will you explain it to an insurance adjuster?"
"Sweet bumpkins I have paid for my insurance for the past 40 years with no claim and if my nephew who happens to be my agent has a problem a call to his father will rectify the situation immediately. I have always regretted not getting that hybrid civic so I now will make the correct decision, that wagon was just too big and awkward for me. You did not cause the problem it was my inattention that was the culprit. Now run and get a shower or even better a restorative bubble bath and use the clothes in the closet. They are all your correct size. They may be a bit dated since they were Tom's but of the best quality. I have never allowed anyone else to use them."
"John you are going to make me start crying again. I do appreciate the honor. Ok, I am off to an opulent bubble bath to relax and reclaim my sanity."
"Brandon, are you decent?"
"That is a matter of definition I think, but I'm ensconced in a bath of bubbles so wonderful it's hard to describe. Please come in I am fine."
"Here sweet boy is a bit of slightly warmed cognac to help make your relaxation complete. Come down to the library at your leisure the fire is started. I want this to be a chance for you to relax so we can mull over the recent events. I have some pristinely fresh salmon fillets to grill that were not in the car."
I know it is a bit of decadence to think the wreck fortuitous but seeing Brandon relax and smile makes it all worthwhile. I do not want to see that car again. It should be buried in a sarcophagus deep enough that it will never return. It was so unexpected to see him or anyone come apart so completely over someone he has known for only a few hours. More is afoot than I realized. God in retrospect I so regret my nasty evaluation of Brandon and precipitous rejection it was unwarranted. Now I must concentrate on my sweet boy. I have never seen someone's emotions come to the fore and take charge of a person as happened with Brandon. What could have happened between those two that would annihilate Brandon's ability to reason? Who would have ever expected this most grounded of young men to completely tailspin into such utter unconstrained abandon. John could not stop his imagination from running amuck. He thought some music might help assuage his disquiet but just what should he play? NO, NOT the rose, what about something positive and uplifting. He slowly scanned his selections until he spied Mahler's second, the glorious `Resurrection' symphony with Kiberg, Dolberg singing, conducted by Segerstam and the Danish National RSO, although idiosyncratic it was his favorite. He had never been accused of being a populist. Although it would be massively engulfing with its monumental marriage of orchestra, chorus and soloist it was his choice. He smiled at he put it on the player. Brandon had come such a long way with his appreciation of music. He settled into his comforting old leather chair that Tom had given him decades ago. It was bordering on shabby but it was theirs and could not be replaced. This reassurance was the balm of Gilead. How would Tom have dealt with this dilemma? He was such a master at the understanding of other's problems. He so missed this gentle wonderful man, the person who had transformed his life from a culture bereft of feelings and fearful of expression. His Tom, the magic of his lifetime, the person who made others unnecessary and the man that made life make sense. How he wished for the faith to believe a reunion possible but his tight smile said otherwise. He listened to the complicated but quiet strains of music as the second started, it never failed to comfort. He looked out the picture window and saw the ghost images of Brandon and Lars jostling down the path, delightfully happy, now lost but why.
"There you are sweet boy, I was about to call the rescue squad to check on you. You look so much better than when I picked you up. We will not bring up the later consequences of my inept driving, THANK YOU, are you hungry or do you just want to relax with a drink."
Brandon looked at John realizing just how important he was and how much he relied on this man. His mind raced back and forth looking for a way to express him-self. What could he tell him that would not sound trite and exaggerated? The last thing he wanted was to come off as a sycophant sucking up.
John Windham: vindskinke@hotmail.com