That's With An "E", by John Windham: vindskinke@hotmail.com
Chapter Three
I cannot help but wonder how long Peter's persistence will endure but for your sake hopefully to the conclusion. I certainly do not take his editing for granted.
This story is about the love that two men find or rather try to find for each other. That by virtue of its nature means it is a homosexual story. If you find this offensive then please do not read any further.
John noticed Brandon's reticence, "ok, it's decided you will sit here with me and enjoy this glorious music. The fire will further assuage your worries and discomfort. I think a little of my special `medicinal' sherry will hit the spot. Tom's clothes somehow just look suitable, drat that's not what I mean, maybe at home on you is better, yes at home fits."
"John you are so very important to me. I have been searching in vain for the words to explain how I feel."
John serves him sherry in a fragile beautifully faceted stemmed glass that transforms the afternoon rays into a multi hued light show around the room. "Brandon you should realize that sometimes words are just not needed. That is one of the many things my Tom taught me. You express your devotion and fealty in so many ways. The special smile you save just for me or that knowing glance when no one is looking that says it all. The way your face glows when you recognize me no matter where we are or what the circumstances. No my sweet boy you do not have to say anything. I just wish that Tom could be a part of our lives because you could not but have adored him." John impatiently shakes himself, "I have always promised my self I would not be one of those old doddering self pitying creatures that are so fatuously tiring and anachronistic."
Despite the somber timbre of their conversation Brandon cannot suppress the giggles, "you are so far from doddering and anachronistic I can not help laughing. I mean no disrespect but you have nothing to fear about slipping into that role."
"I think it's living alone that makes me apprehensive. When Tom was alive I had no fear that I could ever loose perspective. Emotions did not cloud his judgment or interfere with his accurate evaluations. Many are the times that I have waxed rhapsodically about a new acquaintance to have him advise caution. He would invariably prove to be correct. I learned to follow his intuition."
"I have long dreamed that I might someday have a relationship like you and Tom. For a few hours I dared dream that it could be with Lars. We seemed to be reaching a unique harmony and understanding. Even the initial missteps and blunders were somehow valuable. My feelings are difficult to define to myself much less someone else. This will surprise you. He kissed me first. I was floored that he initiated it. I have never felt so in sync with someone as when he wrapped me in his arms. My head seemed to find sanctuary on his shoulder. This must sound pathetically like a schoolgirl's mawkish whining. You are so kind to listen to my inane drivel."
"You are not whining. I am pleased to get some insight into what happened. This gives the problem a better perspective and more balance. I hope that you will never be hesitant to come to me. It is my honor that you trust me enough to be so honest and open. I wish Tom were here he could help us so much."
"John I mean no disrespect but no matter how wonderful Tom was you are the perfect person for me. No one else could come close to providing the comfort and protection you give me. It's your insight and counsel that has kept me from drowning since you `adopted' me. It's hard to believe that I have known you just 3 years not my entire life."
"You were a god send for me. I have never told you but Tom died 5 months before we met. You provided me with a focus other than myself, something I certainly needed. I have often wondered why you never asked more questions about Tom, but it doesn't matter. Maybe you would enjoy a taste of sherry?"
"I am fine but thank you. I hate to broach a delicate subject but we need to do something about your car."
Imperiously John with arched eyebrows squints his eyes and looks over the top of his glasses, "young man did I not warn you to not bring that up? In fact while you were languishing in bubble warp that disgusting thing was towed away and our clothes are having their second round in the washing machine. It's a good thing you wear the same size shoe as Tom. Your boots were a total loss. I have put a pair of hiking boots out for you to try. I think you will enjoy them since they are well broken in. While we are on the subject of `broken', would I be imposing to ask why you were so devastated? Even though I had hopes for the two of you I was not prepared for your reaction."
"This will be difficult but I will try. It's even hard for me to understand much less explain. The first time I saw him it captured me. After that it just happened' that I would find myself near him, near enough to watch him carefully but not so close that he would notice me. Then wonder of wonders I had two classes with him. I made certain that my seat was just behind his. I loved hearing him speak and he was Johnny on the spot' when it came to answering whatever questions the professor might throw out. It was amazing but he understands English grammar, usage, and punctuation better than I, or 99% of the class. His attention never wavered to such an extent the professors seemed to be giving their lectures to just him. I was not the only person aware of this phenomenon. None of the other students seemed to mind to the contrary he charmed everyone he met in or out of class. But he never made real friends with anyone and I was so intimidated by his looks and intellect all I did was observe. As you know I have had a few exploratory ventures with a variety of boys but nothing of consequence. I have never been with someone that I thought merited your judgment. Oh, you know what I mean. I would not be with someone unless you approved. I became obsessed with Lars to put it mildly. I started having dreams about him, not really sexual ones but Monet like depictions suffused with glowing colors. It only took me a nanosecond to realize your new project was none other than the Dane, my Dane, and Lars Jacobsen. If we had not been at the dinner table with 8 of your guests I would have exploded in exultation when you told the story about him and Miss Dumpusta. Am I going on to long and boring you senseless, do you want me to stop?"
"My dear boy when have I ever not put a halt to anything if I was bored? I am the swaying cobra mesmerized by your turbaned weaving as you spin this story. Excuse my hyperbole but it's true. This day's catastrophe makes the telling that much more portentous. Please continue, here's a bit more sherry we have nothing to do but be with each other and share."
"Ok, I don't know what I would do without you but here goes. Yesterday when he hesitated looking into the library it was as if he were stuck on flypaper. He wanted to flee but couldn't and the whole time our eyes were riveted on each other. His face and eyes could not hide the roiling clash of emotions. He seemed resignedly grim when he finally reached out to shake my hand. My reaction alternated between my body being immobilized and my pulse galvanized. I almost forgot how to speak and when I did it was incomprehensibly garbled. I think my inarticulate floundering made him take pity. That is when he began to thaw and that first smile so transfixed me that the dye was cast. My fate sealed. Am I making sense?"
John just nodded and smiled that special way reserved only for Brandon, "please continue but only if you are comfortable doing so."
"It's just you already know so much about the events. I am so afraid I am taking advantage of your generosity and concern with my boring story."
"Brandon, please."
"I knew then and I know now that this stiffly implacable man is special. I also firmly believe that we are right for each other despite all of these calamitous collisions and resulting casualties. Even this recitation of events is serving to consolidate my determination. When he leaned down looking in my eyes touching my lips with his I knew it was not just me that was being transformed. His eyes were broadcasting the uniquely remarkable event in digital wide band living color. My antennae received a program that contradicts his turning aside and caution to rethink things. The matchless accord reached in those few hours of harmony were not only life affirming but also a plateau of unity seldom attained by entities so dissimilar. I just cannot, will not accept his rejection. This afternoon when we saw him on his bicycle the kaleidoscope of events replayed even more vividly and any pretence of control was shattered. The rest is history as they say and I am the cause of the resulting historical catastrophes."
Brandon seemed to shrink into himself after his lengthy recitation. He allowed himself to remember, relish and regret as the music surrounded and dampened further conversation. Even with his eyes closed he could sense John's careful scrutiny and concern. He wondered how or rather why on earth had his life become as antithetically disparate as to be unrecognizable. His goals had always been so clear and straightforward. Was he to capitulate to this inner madness and allow everything to be lost because of an encounter of less than 24 hours? The sheer stupidity of his actions left him numb. His attempts to steady his mind foundered and were lost as his body and lips still responded to Lars's charmed caresses.
John's manner carefully covered his turmoil and anxiety. How could he protect this boy he so dearly loved? He watched Brandon now comfortably lost in Tom's chair; eyes closed listening to the music as it climbed to its towering climax of joy and rapture. John was relieved the music made conversation difficult. This hiatus gave him the opportunity to consider his options. The obvious one being to not intercede but rather let things run their natural course. After his and Lars rather volatile parting he would curb his natural proclivity to try to help. All he could do would be to offer comfort and be a steady support for this beautiful vulnerable boy. The silence that followed the music's finale was a fragile frozen few moments of companionable comfort. This afforded each the chance to silently acknowledge their love.
"Ok, Brandon, I am going to retreat into the refuge I call the kitchen. Tom always called my cooking `the most productive therapy possible.' After sampling several other varieties I must concur. It certainly is less expensive than a psychiatrist's couch. You can stay in here by the fire or perhaps a walk will be more beneficial."
"The walk I think will hit the spot. I can take advantage of your generosity and try out Tom's boots. I should have known, I was about to ask to borrow some socks and you have anticipated my need. These feel wonderfully warm and soft. I have never heard of this brand of shoes before, Ecco."
"It's a European brand I think. It's about all that Tom would wear and they never seem to wear out. Ok it is a deal, you walk and I cook. No rush just come back in when ever you want I will not cook the salmon until you are back. It will only take a few minutes. Why don't you take the binoculars in case something unusual shows up?"
Brandon walks over to John and gives him a hug of gratitude. John watches as Brandon walks into the orchard.
Well, that was easier than I thought no questions or requests for advice. It really is hard for me to understand how Lars could resist that boy. I thought that I knew him so well and he seemed so appreciative. That should teach me a lesson not to assume that I know more than I do. I was just hoping that Brandon had found his `Tom' when I saw them together last night. Tom you would be shaking your head and smirking. Will I ever stop missing you so very much? I still catch myself expecting to hear you from the other room or coming in the back door. I wake up startled and frightened when I find my hand on your pillow searching for the familiar comfort of your touch. My dearest beloved man, the joy of my life, the comfort I depended on, expecting you to always be with me. I find myself now living vicariously on the fringe of others. Looking back and remembering our time together makes me realize I never told you how much I love you or how important you are for my life. Look at silly ole me, thinking in the present tense. I think this is one of those times my dearest lost love that my kitchen will be of little comfort. Not even that dear sweet boy in the yard can help. I feel so broken and lost. I am sick and exhausted from being strong for others. I want you back to be strong for me. I want to again feel the comfort of your arms. Hearing the warmth and love in your voice augments its power and strength. He could not help but wish that he had the refuge and comfort of believing. You are lost to me and gone forever. I know this rationally but I cannot stop my heart from longing and wishing otherwise. He was disconcerted to see his reflection staring back layered over the image of the orchard. He could see the anguish etching his once proud face. He grimly realized how fitting it was to see a reflection since nothing else was left of his youth and beauty but a wavering fading likeness. What a disgraceful self-pitying lump I have become. Brandon is out wondering lost in his misery confused and bewildered. Have I become so selfish and maudlin that all I can do is feel sorry for myself? Wrenching himself away from that image which threatened to engulf and destroy all vestiges of self-respect he braced himself on the back of Tom's chair. Not realizing this Brandon had claimed the chair as his own. So like his Tom when they first met. He wore the clothes that seemed so right, so natural that they belonged on him. The truth of the similarity between Brandon and his lost Tom had shaken him to the core. This realization had forced him to the epicenter of a quake so strong it threatened to destroy his stability. He had managed to submerge these thoughts. He was appalled seeing Brandon in Tom's clothes, in his chair so close to being in his place that he was alarmed by the implications. He tried to muffle his distress and suppress the keening sighs of loneliness. He shuddered at these implications and vowed to never burden Brandon with them. He turned to the player and without thought put The Four Last Songs on to play. This just may be the coup de grace but I have no choice. He finally turned toward the kitchen waiting for those glorious floating notes with which Leontyne and Bjoerling merged so exquisitely. He could not let Brandon see him like this. He climbed the stairs to their room, refusing to look at the empty oh so empty bed and looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. God he looked so old, when had it happened? Taking a soft cloth he sponged his face with witch hazel grimly assessing what he saw. He took a bit of the creamy beige magic from Revlon that he had managed to buy at Wall Mart. Even there he had felt compelled to make an excuse about buying it for his wife. He patted a little onto the reddened spots and blemishes. He realized how pathetic it was making him-self believe that it could make a difference. He needed this crutch to compensate for the sagging chin and erosions of time. Satisfied that he was as good as possible he averted his eyes again not looking at the bed as he left to prepare their supper.
Wondering aimlessly Brandon stretched both arms out enjoying the comfort of the chamois shirt and luxurious sweater. He even imagined he could almost smell the essence that must have been Tom. He wondered that John had never showed him a picture of Tom even though he seemed a common topic of their conversation. Suddenly he felt a bolt of panic so vivid that it took his breath, Lars, where was he? Something had happened he was sure of it. Crap, where is this coming from he thought, next I will be casting spells and sticking needles in a doll. Yet he was oddly discomfited and ill at ease. His quiet contemplation was lost and try as he would it could not be regained. Turning toward the house he was startled to see in the picture window an image that seemed almost like a flickering reflection of him-self. Despite the numbing chill he felt, he shrugged the whole thing off as a trick of the fading light and an overwrought imagination. He kept glancing at the window as he returned to the house but to his relief no mirror specter was there. It had to be the tension and events of this past day that had made him a veritable basket case. He wondered to himself if he should try to call Lars. What on earth would he say? Standing outside the door he looked back as the sun was beginning to disappear but not without painting a sky filled with improbable colors and shapes. The richly warm amber and garnet shot through with crystal clear streamers of incandescent yellow and gold. When he realized what John had on the CD he knew to expect melancholy and nostalgia. He never played the last songs unless he was especially missing Tom.
It was sweet that he did not even realize that he always played it at times like that. Brandon smiled to himself and wondered if he would ever have someone that meant as much to him as Tom meant to John.
"I am back; you should see this sunset it is so incredible. I feel so selfish and self-centered leaving all the work to you. All I have been doing is wondering around in almost a daze. John, do you by any chance have Lars' phone number I just had the strangest sensation that he needed help. You know I am not one to believe in all that but it was an uncanny feeling. I just would like to call him or even better if you would call him. I have no idea what I would say."
"Brandon you call him I am too busy. The number is on the list under the phone in the library. Call him and just tell him you were worried about him. No big deal just do it."
He found the list and seeing the number called. No answer. He tried again and once more a third time letting it ring 13 times. His feeling of unease was compounded by the unanswered calls.
I thank you for your encouragement and responses persevere, you only have 2 more chapters left. If you have any comments please contact me at: vindskinke@hotmail.com John Windham