THE BROTHERHOOD REDUX: by Mobius
Necessary Disclaimers: * This story is fiction; none of characters represent any persons in real life and none of the events described actually happened, at least to my direct knowledge. * This fictional story depicts sexual activity between youths under the age of 18. Do not read if this matter offends you, or if because of your age or region of residence, it is illegal for you to do so. * Nifty preserved my original story for over two decades, so their service is more than worth your donation to keep the archive running. Please donate at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html * (c)1997,2021 Mobius Loop w/ permission for Nifty Archive Alliance.
Chapter 10 -- THE END OF THE BROTHERHOOD
I had never imagined that my knowledge of the Brotherhood was going to put my professional career in danger. Suspended by the principal for professional negligence in April 1985, I spent those days waiting for the investigation to conclude wondering about everything that was happening, how everyone was reacting.
I knew from detailed descriptions that they did nothing to make the school unsafe. In fact, there was nothing dangerous about them. In fact, they were just a small bubble where the invited boys could be themselves, loving one another as they wished. It was only the narrow-minded attitudes of the Reagan-80s creating some sort of moral threat where none existed.
The four boys were interviewed (interrogated) about the Brotherhood. From what the boys themselves told me, they told the absolute truth. Because they chose to do that and not deny what they had done, it gave them credibility before the review board. Their stories were coherent, backing up their viewpoint.
The most embarrassing moment, I think, was when Principal Maxwell had to give his statement. It was obvious to everyone that he didn't have any direct proof that what these boys admitted to doing together on their own time affected the school directly. He himself looked sheepish as he stepped from the room. The heat of the moment had faded, and he realized his logic was seriously flawed.
Then they spoke to me. I informed them that while I knew a few boys had created a small, closed circle and were having sex with each other, I had never heard or known about any instances when they met together as a group in the school. As far as I knew, they had also practiced their meetings in the privacy of their individual homes on the weekends.
It looked like it would go well for everyone, except when the board made mention of the instance between Billy Kip and Ben Maxwell in the projector room. Apparently, the boys admitted to that. But since it had happened a year ago, they couldn't seriously act on it. Finally, the board concluded its investigation. While the boys' behavior wasn't commendable or encouraged, there was no evidence that they had done anything at the school to make it an unsafe place. My job was reinstated that very afternoon, and Principal Maxwell was given harsh words by the Superintendent of Schools for his poor judgement.
No matter how relieved we felt when the investigation was over, the damage had been done. Most of the school had found out about what was going on, and the boys were scorned for the rest of the year. Gossip was unbridled and they were ostracized by their peers and their teachers. Jason was impeached as Student Government President on some trumped-up reason three weeks before he was going to graduate. Billy was forced off the wrestling team when everyone refused to wrestle him in practice. Teddy suffered incredibly at the hands of the other football players, finally deciding to quit the team.
My marriage with Donna was cool for a while. She was mad at me because I didn't tell her... that I knew and I kept it a secret while she could have helped or support Teddy in some way. I understood, and her anger at me was justified and only reinforced in my mind why I loved her.
But during that time, Teddy and I built a much stronger relationship. He knew he could trust me with anything. We had a lot of long talks about what had happened. The safety of the Brotherhood now smashed, he couldn't bring himself to call the others.
This is where they made their mistake. They needed each other for support, but because they were so scared and hurt by the humiliation they had gone through, they stopped seeing each other altogether. No phone calls, no casual conversations at school. Their relationships slipped instantly into oblivion.
It is now many years later, winter of 2000, and I stand in the cold with a mass of others around the open grave. The cherry wood casket starts to sink into the ground, its top heaped with flowers on this cold December afternoon. I look across at the family, a large group dressed in their mourning black. They weep in the cold.
I glance to right of them and see a cluster of men in their thirties, many of them with wedding bands on their fingers. A couple hold small children in their arms. I remember some of their faces vaguely, stripping away the aging of time and imagining them when they were 15 or 16. They were the Brotherhood.... most of its members by my count. All but two. One was being laid in the ground, and the other was my son.
As the group broke up, we started walking away. The cold was fierce, and I needed to get out of the cold. In my mid-forties, the weather affected me much more than when I was younger.
"Mr. Bradley?"
I turned. Standing there were two men. I recognized them immediately. The one with the young son was Jason Zander, and the other was Ben Maxwell.
"Hello, boys," I said.
"We're so happy that you could come," Jason said. "Where's Ted?"
"You'll have to excuse Ted," I replied. "He's on his honeymoon in Europe. I'm representing the both of us."
"We were just about to get some coffee," Ben said. "Do you want to come?"
"You'll be happy to know," I said, the warm cup of coffee in my hand, "that a boy may now walk down the hall hand in hand with another boy at Riverside and no one batts an eye."
Jason laughed, shaking his head. He handed his son a piece of pastry. The young boy sat there quietly drinking his milk and eating the hot cross bun.
"Those were really strange days," Ben said. "My father was never the same after that. We grew more and more distant. Once I left for college, we didn't speak to each other at all. I think he blames me for what happened."
"Jesus," Jason muttered.
"You know," I said. "It took a while, but it finally looks as if gay and lesbian individuals are starting to get some public acceptance."
There was a silence at the table, exaggerated by the emptiness of the diner. Ben sipped his coffee, and Jason lovingly helped his son.
"So how did he die?" I asked.
"AIDS," Ben replied. "Kyle caught HIV six years ago from his boyfriend. He met him in grad school and they fell in love. He died of infectious pneumonia in a hospital bed a week ago."
"Did he ever officially come out?" I asked.
"He came out in college, publicly, to everyone," Jason said. "We used to write to one another. But then he got busy with his architecture and I got busy with my writing... we kind of lost track."
"He had a good heart," I said. Then I turned directly to Jason, "I want you to come to my house tomorrow. I have something for you."
The next evening, he was at my door. My wife was away at her sick mother's bedside. I led him into my study and offered him a seat. He sat down.
"So, what's all this mystery?" he asked.
"This..." and I pulled from my desk drawer the Brotherhood Journal from the summer of 1982. The worn cover of the composition notebook still showed the faded letters of the pen inscription.
"Oh My God," he gasped, taking it in his hands. "You still have this."
"Yes," I said. "I kept it as a memento of that time, when all of us were still young. You and Kyle had something special together. You should keep this now."
He held it in his hands, his face awash with memory. Opening the cover, he began to read the page.
"This notebook is a journal of the Brotherhood. The four of us pledge to protect one another, to help one another, and to live our youths like they were meant to be lived, with respect, dignity, and safety. We pledge to wear the ring as a symbol of our trust. We hope that future generations of the Brotherhood will read these words in the hope that they might know the secret true lives of these four boys."
THE END
Author's Note: I hope you have enjoyed the refurbished version of my first original story, "The Brotherhood", first published in 1997. While I felt I was able to clean up a lot of the problems from the first edition, there were some things that could not be altered or improved, such as the ending. While I am a proponent of happy endings (both in the written word and in massage), given the years when this story was set and how the AIDS epidemic of the 1980s reignited a social hysteria of homophobia, the boys were never going to have an easy time. Even today, while many developed nations have made great strides in protecting the rights of non-heterosexual relationships, anti-gay violence still rages across planet Earth. But, through all this, we must learn the lesson that the boys failed to learn: in the moments of our greatest challenges, when we are exposed and humiliated in front a cruel world, we must remember to stick together. In unity, we can meet fear with healing. Together, we can meet despair with hope. - Mobius (mobius2021@protonmail.com)
Other Nifty stories by Mobius: The Brothers Next Door - https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/the-brothers-next-door