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-DurtyRiter
The Man with the Jeep
Chapter 50
John looked at the text one more time before he put his phone down. Andrew wanted to talk. No more information than that, but it was probably significant in its lack of details. Something was clearly troubling him that he didn't want to address in a string of text messages. What could it be this time?
He sighed.
That boy was way too high strung for his own good. John was pleased that he had gotten Andrew to loosen up a little bit lately, but it was evident that he had definite habits holding him back. Of course, John had realized this going in and was far from the end of his patience. He had already mentally prepared himself for a long progression. He had just forgotten that progress is seldom steady: it nearly always comes in fits and spurts, dearth and deluge.
He had noticed Andrew hadn't sent more than a good night text since they parted ways yesterday. John had chosen to believe Andrew was letting him attend to his affairs and get some work done. He was, after all, considerate to a fault.
But now he had second thoughts. Andrew had proven to have a chronic case of cold feet when it came to relationships, and John was trying very hard to give him the benefit of the doubt that this wasn't yet another retreat on Andrew's part.
Well, there was nothing to be gained by waiting in suspicion and conjecture.
He picked up his phone again and texted Andrew: `I'd love that! Would you like to meet up now or in the morning? It's a little late, but I don't mind staying up if you prefer.'
`Tomorrow would be fine' came the reply.
Sounds good' he messaged back. We could meet for breakfast at my place at say 9?'
`I forgot you had a home' Andrew sent along with a winking face emoji with its tongue sticking out.
`I forgot you haven't been here yet! Did I already give you my address?'
`No such luck'
John sent the entirety of his contact info straight to Andrew's phone.
`There you go: you should have everything now'
`You forgot the passwords'
Passwords? Passwords for what? John decided to gloss over that part, but then gave him the code for the front gate. `The gate code is 1127'
There was a pause this time before `Got it! See you in the morning' came through.
`Looking forward to it, sexy!'
John turned off the light and crawled into bed, but sleep proved more elusive than usual. Despite his determination, suspicion and conjecture decided to have a war inside his head after all. It felt like it would never end, but he did eventually drift off to sleep.
Andrew pulled up to what seemed to be the right address, but it was an old nondescript brick building that could be anything from a warehouse to a factory. At street level, several openings had been bricked in at different times, judging from the multiple shades of brick in roughly window- and door-shaped arched patches down the entire length. Starting about ten feet up from ground level, there were huge window openings filled with small clear glass panes sprinkled randomly with translucent white ones. Weathered from years of battles with the elements, the edifice didn't even have a legible building number that he could find.
The only reason he'd found it was the small office building on one side had a higher number than the address John sent and the building on the other side was lower. He scanned the faade skeptically in search of a front door, but the only portal was an empty archway with an old iron gate across it. As he approached it, Andrew noticed a small metal keypad attached to the wall. A sticker above that confirmed this was the correct address.
He typed in 1127 and after nothing happened for a moment, he mashed the pound button as well. With a generic beep, the mechanism released the gate latch with a loud clang, and Andrew pushed it open and walked in. As he turned to close it behind him, he noticed a sad little strip of tape desperately holding a plain white piece of paper to the gate with a faded hand-scrawled message: "Don't forget to close the gate all the way!"
He did so and trudged inward. Looking ahead, he could see it led to an interior courtyard with arched openings all the way around. It wasn't until he spied John's old BMW sitting in one of the openings that he was properly convinced this was the right place.
Looking up from within the narrow courtyard made the 50-foot structure seem even taller than it did from the street. Just like the exterior, the inside walls had a lot of glass at the higher levels. He assumed the "Unit 403" John lived in would be found on the fourth floor, so he looked around until he found an old wooden stairway under another arched alcove that wrapped itself around an ancient industrial iron elevator. It looked sketchy enough that he wasn't sure he'd take it even if he wasn't predisposed to taking the stairs everywhere he went.
Andrew found the rough stairs well-worn in the middle through decades and decades of hard use. He trod carefully all the way up to the fourth floor, which proved to be the very top of the stairs. Thankfully, there were small industrial-looking plaques on the wall at this level indicating which direction to go. Following the signs, he turned left and walked down the narrow and rather dingy hallway.
By all indications, the walls were literally just plywood, and the floors were dirty unfinished wooden planks with visible gaps between them that promised to swallow high heels and give splinters to any who chose to go barefoot. Most of the ceiling was lost in shadow, but Andrew could make out bare rafters high above with an occasional single-bulb barn-style lamp hanging down by long cords to grudgingly illuminate the way. There were very few doors to break the monotony.
The old place carried an air of forgotten history and mystery that was somehow sadly romantic rather than scary. Hours of urban exploration videos he'd watched on YouTube played through his mind as he walked through the dusty and quiet passageway. He was so lost in thought that he almost missed the nondescript door with the little "403"-stamped metal plate next to it.
Now that he was here, the purpose of his visit abruptly came to mind and the nostalgic building got bumped to the back burner of his awareness. He paused to collect his thoughts, took a deep breath, and looked at his watch. 9:02. Damn. Two minutes late for his appointment with Mr. Punctual.
He found no trace of a doorbell, so he rapped smartly on the door. The door was so solid it hurt his knuckles and he wasn't at all sure it could be heard from the other side, but it opened almost instantly, revealing John in a black apron that made Andrew laugh despite himself when he read it:
THIS IS A MANLY APRON FOR A MANLY MAN DOING MANLY THINGS WITH MANLY FOOD
"You like it?" John asked with a grin as he leaned forward to give Andrew a welcoming kiss.
"It's funny," Andrew answered.
"I didn't pick it myself, but I like it," John confided conspiratorially. "Come on in and make yourself at home! I need to get back to the kitchen before the eggs burn."
Andrew seriously doubted there was any danger of that, but he used the moment to check out John's bachelor pad.
It was brilliantly bright thanks to all the glass, though he couldn't tell how much of that was just because he'd just come out of that gloomy hallway. This was clearly an old-school loft. Nearly the entire space was gloriously rough-hewn.
Raw brick, exposed joints, and unfinished wood were everywhere, offering no apology for its composition or its past. That was not to say that it was neglected, though. Every bit of metal, for example, was sealed from the elements with glossy black paint. There were no broken panes of glass to be found and the caulking was in good shape throughout. The high and exposed ceiling was likewise devoid of cobwebs, and the skylights were clear and clean. The rafters contained no bird's nests, though discoloring in places testified that had not always been the case.
The flooring-Ńif it could be called that-Ńwas identical to the hall outside, with wide planks of dense wood. Now bathed in light, Andrew could see the gaps between them were much tighter than they appeared before and probably just due to some age-related shrinkage rather than slap-dash construction. Unlike the public hallways, John kept his floors swept clean, but there were several spots where there had obviously been heavy machinery for extended periods of time. The result was a fascinating, if uneven, floor throughout the apartment.
Perhaps to compensate for the undulating floor, all the furniture was very low and of simple design. 100% IKEA, if he had to guess, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. When you live by yourself and you take care of your stuff as John obviously did, that was a great way to be frugal and still have some style.
The layout was instantly understood with the seating area and a modest TV on one end, and the open kitchen on the other. There were a few bar stools under the outside edge of the kitchen island and a simple table with dining chairs between that and the vaguely U-shaped sectional couch.
Just inside the front door to one side was an interesting wall-mounted cabinet. As the office chair parked in front of it hinted, it was a large peninsula-style desk that folded up against the wall when not in use.
Tucked between the kitchen and the exterior wall of windows was a simple black metal staircase going up to an open loft area where Andrew could just barely see the low bed with its fluffy blue comforter.
It suited John amazingly well: Rough around the edges, but not to the extent of being completely unruly, mixed with a definite sense of style. Imminently welcoming and honest, yet frugal.
John was busily serving up the food. "Doctored-up" scrambled eggs, English muffins, turkey bacon, and hash browns all found a place on the plates. Beside them were small bowls of grapes with apple slices and a glass of orange juice.
"Wow," whistled Andrew. "That's a solid spread!"
"Why thank you! Now let's eat!"
They dove in and soon every last bit was eaten.
"Oh my gosh," exclaimed Andrew. "I think that will have to be brunch, because I don't dare eat lunch after all that!"
"It's the start of the day and you need fuel," John asserted. "Let the rest of the day fall where it will."
"Good philosophy."
"It works for me, anyway."
"I have to agree," Andrew said with a laugh. "Can I use the restroom real quick?"
"Of course," John shrugged, indicating the open space between the fridge and the stairs. "It's right through there."
"Thanks."
Andrew found the bathroom behind the kitchen wall. It eschewed the old factory look for a simple and clean design that reminded Andrew of the incredible outhouse more than anything else, but it was not nearly as extravagant. Just simple cabinetry, a bare concrete floor (which he later learned was heated), clean white walls, and mild gray tiling in the modestly sized shower. He noticed John's closet was more or less under the stairs and situated next to the entrance to the bathroom.
Curiously, there were no doors in the entire apartment, save for the entrance into the loft from the hall. Andrew was grateful for the little pony wall between the toilet and the sink that provided (only a little) privacy. Bachelor pad indeed!
When he came back out, John had already cleared the dishes and counters.
"So, your text said you wanted to talk?" he asked cautiously as he led Andrew over to the couch.
"Yeah," Andrew said, screwing up his courage to be direct. "After you left my place Thursday without spending the night, I had to take matters into my own hands, so to speak, and I came across something interesting."
"Yeah?" asked John, getting a glimmer of where this might be going. "What was it?"
"I was roaming around for something to jack off to, when I came across a video that caught my eye, and then-Ńboom!-Ńthere you were!" Andrew cringed on the inside to be speaking so bluntly about things he normally kept very much to himself, but he knew escaping his comfort zone was necessary if he wanted answers.
"Ah," said John. He didn't seem embarrassed or self-conscious. He didn't seem upset that he was found out. He seemed merely...resigned? Accepting? Maybe understanding even? "You found a flick I did?"
"Yes. Were you going to tell me about that?"
"Yes, I was. I don't want to keep any secrets from you." John asserted. "But honestly, I didn't know how to tell you about that."
"How about `you should probably know I do porn'?
John laughed.
Andrew tried not to bridle at that unexpected reaction.
"First off, I don't do that anymore. I didn't do many of them and I never had big aspirations of naked stardom or anything. It was just happenstance that the opportunity came along, and I thought `why not?' It was good money for a short time doing something I enjoyed. That was my original thinking anyway. I got over it pretty quickly. I don't regret it, but I don't miss it, either." He paused to try to gauge Andrew's reaction. "Is that what you wanted to know?"
"How recently did you stop?"
"Maybe four years ago I think."
"You don't remember?"
"Not specifically. I could do the math and find out exactly if you want." He offered. "In case you missed it, I try to only remember the good times as life goes on. That was just...meh, so I don't dwell on it too much. But I do have some stories if you want to hear them," he said with a wink.
"I don't know," Andrew said.
John gave him a look, and Andrew remembered that John never liked that answer.
"Let me rephrase that: maybe later, but not right now."
"Can you forgive me for doing porn before I met you?"
When John put it like that, Andrew realized John thought he was being unreasonable.
Andrew struggled with finding the right words. "I guess I'm just a bit jealous when I see you with othersŃ-especially when they look anything like me," he finally admitted sheepishly.
"I got you," John said seriously. "Just try to remember that was long before I met you. It feels like an entire lifetime ago."
"I will," Andrew promised. "My head already knows that."
John nodded.
"Why didn't you tell me though?"
John paused for a good minute before replying. "Honestly?" he finally asked.
"Always yes." Andrew replied firmly. "You never have to ask me that."
"Okay," John finally said. "You do recognize you are a bit straightlaced and conservative for a gay guy, right?"
"Yeah," Andrew admitted. Luckily it came out as if he was owning that about himself rather than yet another embarrassing revelation.
"I just didn't want to scare you off. I know I've lived a lot more on the edge than you have and not all of it is pretty. Can you honestly tell me you would have even gone to lunch with me if I had told you at the beginning that I had done porn?"
It was Andrew's turn to be introspective.
"I guess that would have made it harder."
"God, you're so punny without even trying," John laughed.
Andrew blushed.
"Think of it from my perspective. Whenever I tell people I did porn, it takes over the conversation. They want to know what my porn name was, what kind of videos I did, who I filmed with, how fun it was, how much I got paid, what it was like to have sex in front of a camera, blah, blah, blah. They stop trying to get to know me at that point and only care about my alter ego. Which, like I said, was a brief blip in my life, digitally sealed in a moment of time forever and ever amen."
Andrew had to admit he could see how that could happen.
"When I asked you to lunch, it was because I wanted to get to know you and I wanted you to get to know me. I'm over the shallow life and I want to share it meaningfully with someone who wants the same thing. Does that make sense?"
"Yeah."
"Don't think I don't notice how much time I spend talking compared to you. I listen to everything you say, and I am learning who you are. That's the `you' I've fallen for. The reason I don't mind doing a lot of talking when I'm with you is because I want you to realize who I am too and that I'm safe to talk to. I want you to feel comfortable enough with me that you know you can let your guard down a little bit and I won't use it against you. I'm not looking to devour you." He paused with a dirty smile. "Okay, maybe I'm not opposed to devouring your sexy body," he amended, "But the absolute last thing I want to do is hurt you."
Andrew could feel himself tearing up, but he fought to stay focused. He didn't want to melt in front of John again. Yet, at least.
"Thank you," Andrew said quietly. "I'm not used to that."
"I can tell," John replied. "And it makes me mad at whomever did that to you to make you so...trepidatious."
"Wow, there's a ten-dollar word!"
"I know, right? But anyway, I'm sorry I held the porn thing back from you."
"Already forgiven," Andrew assured him. "I know I'm a basket case sometimes and you were probably right to hold off. At least for a little while."
"Thank you."
"But are there other things you aren't telling me?"
John steeled himself for fallout. "Yes."
"Like what?"
"Are the nutshell versions okay, or do you want to hear all the sordid details at once?"
"An overview would be fine. I may like my share of mystery, but surprises from out of the blue can really throw me."
"You?" John exclaimed in mock surprise.
"Oh, shut up," Andrew said, rolling his eyes.
"Too late: I've been instructed to spill my guts all over the floor here and now."
"Then get on with it, drama queen."
John just grinned at him for a moment before he began.
"I grew up in a loud and active home with an unconventional view of sex that had no regard for secrecy or prudism. I've known about sex for as long as I can remember, which is exactly what my parents intended. We were never forced, but we were free to explore, ask questions, and try things whenever we wanted, so for better or worse, that's how I was raised. You still with me so far?"
Andrew nodded, logging that revelation away for future contemplation.
"I went to public schools all the way from preschool through high school, sometimes raising a ruckus and sometimes not, like any mostly good but hyperactive kid. I suppose I was something of a leader most of the time, though I didn't try to be. I chalk that up to never feeling that I had to prove myself to anyone. That's how I learned that confidenceŃ-or at least the appearance of itŃ-commands respect, and I took that to heart.
"I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life after I graduated, so I joined the Marines. I was a good enough jarhead to get into Force RECON. Do you know what that is?"
Andrew shook his head. "I've heard of the Rangers and the Navy Seals, but not that."
"Sounds about right," John acknowledged. "Force RECON has more to do with gathering intelligence in unfriendly places and stuff like that. We did other things too, but that was our primary aim. Anyway, I did that for a while until one op in particular went sideways."
As John spoke, Andrew watched his entire demeanor change into that stoic and stiff John he'd encountered for the first time not too long ago.
"After that, things weren't the same. The adventure was gone, the challenge didn't matter, and for the life of me, I couldn't get the point of it all. I slipped into drinking too much and then I couldn't stop. Once I got to that point, it wasn't long before they kicked me out, and then it got really bad. I was absolutely furious with the world and took it out on people who did nothing to deserve it. I did some really awful things that of course made me feel horrible about who I'd become. Those memories haunt me still.
"You remember the sex parties at the barn I was telling you about?"
Andrew nodded.
"Those started not long after I got back. I probably made it sound like it was all my idea to fix up the barn and do all the weddings and stuff, but my mom was the one really running things at the time. I was there and had some input, but I was so wrapped up in myself that I doubt I was even helpful.
It wasn't until those parties that I found some outlet. All kinds of guysŃ-and some that may or may not have been for all I know, for that matter-Ńwould come to these things, and there were specific areas set up for those with different kinks and stuff. I was hardly a stranger to sex, but suddenly the whole BDSM thing clicked for me. It filled a need. I hadn't understood the dom/sub thing until that point, but now I was all in. My personal life was out of control, so naturally I was the dommest dom there. Leather was my new uniform and whips and chains were the tools of my trade. That confidence thing I picked up in high school came to the fore again and I got off on guys seeking my power over them. It was a rush that I hadn't felt since the Marines, and I ate it up. It was what I was living for. It had gotten to the point that I didn't respond to anything besides Master' or Sir'Ńand that's with a capital `S' and a dip of the head, of course.
But eventually it became larger than me and even though I still enjoyed it, I started feeling lost even in the midst of wielding all this control. This was when I did the porn, too, hoping it would trigger something. Anything. But it didn't."
"By this time, I had a hard time remembering who I even was. I only thought about the moment. I knew I had no future to live for, so why even bother? I desperately wanted it to end. On one hand, that was absolutely terrifying, while on the other, I just couldn't bring myself to care at all."
At this point, John was like a ghost of himself. All emotion had left him, and there was just emptiness in his eyes. Andrew felt like he needed to do something or say something to fill that void, but he had no idea what, so he continued to sit quietly while John struggled through.
"All that was catching up with me. The stuff I saw in the field, my inability to stop drinking, my overwhelming anger and guilt, and now this unassailable depression and emptiness. It was just too much.
I thought about death all the time. It was like I craved it, and the only reason I didn't kill myself was that I couldn't make up my mind how I wanted to do it."
John paused for a moment and took a deep breath before continuing.
"Fortunately for me, that was when my family stepped in and did an intervention. I don't think they even knew how far gone I was. Oh, they knew I came back in sad shape and wasn't getting any better, but I don't think they realized how close I was to ending it all...
"I take that back: maybe they did. My memories are kind of vague at this point, to be honest. I like to think that I was still highly functional and nobody knew, but that seems unlikely, doesn't it?" John mused.
"Regardless, I was so desperate that when they did the intervention, I grabbed on with both hands, knowing it would be my last hurrah if it didn't work.
"And just like that, I was off for a year to a rehab place where I had to quit alcohol cold turkey, had to go to counseling and therapy sessions two or three times a day, and I had very little say in my daily agenda.
"They prescribed some drugs for me too, but there was no way I was taking those. I didn't want to go into rehab just to come out with an addiction or having to take pills daily to cope for the rest of my life. I told them if their program had any validity, I wouldn't need them. They didn't like that at all and never stopped trying to push them on me, but I was able to stand firm.
They even tried to put it in my food once, but I purposely gagged myself in front of the doctor and threw it all up on him. It was only then that they backed off a little bit. I had been through basic training and real battles, so I knew I could get through it just fine without. But it ended up being the hardest thing I've ever had to do.
"Since then, I've just been trying to build a satisfying life and be a better me. That's what led to the bodybuilding too. I decided I was on such a role after rehab that I'd keep it going somehow, so I turned to the gym. Between you and me, I never cared about the competitions, I just wanted to look more like a bodybuilder. I hired a trainer and never let on that I didn't care. He would have gotten his money either way, but I figured he would go easy on me if I told him I wasn't in it for medals."
"You're probably right," Andrew agreed. He was enormously pleased that John had become himself again by the end of his tale. He would have never guessed he had gone through so much. But apparently he had, and made it through it all to become the man he was today.
Jim's words floated through his mind as he thought about how impressive John was to wade through all that and by sheer force of will come out on top by the end. Andrew could see some of John's faults now, but they didn't diminish his feelings or his resolve to be a better man to and for John.
He saw now how John could have so many anecdotes and tales to tell, and it underscored even more deeply just how boring his own life was. He felt like he should have done more to be able to have more to tell about himself.
"Penny for your thoughts," John interrupted.
Again bracing himself to be bold, he told John.
"Your story is just deeper, that's all," John assured him. "Mine may look more interesting, but it takes a lot of dips to make those highs exciting. You run under the radar. That's your way. Remember when we talked about your grandma?"
"And Hitler?" Andrew added with a smile. "Yes."
"Do you realize how hardcore that was? All my stories are reactions and circumstances. Yours have real meaning."
"Thanks for saying that, but so do yours. I can't imagine the struggles you've had to go through."
"See? Deep. Most guys are so wrapped up in themselves that they don't bother trying to imagine another person's perspective, while you can't help yourself. I never used to appreciate it, but rehab opened my eyes to things like that. I also have to say I'm pretty impressed and honored that you came to talk to me. I know that must have been hard for you to do. Not long ago, you would have just disappeared on me, am I right?"
"Probably," admitted Andrew. "But like I've said before, I'm not looking for the exit anymore."
"Glad to hear it," John said with a smile. "I'd hate to have to blindfold you!"
"Dork!"
"Does this mean we are okay? I know we just covered a lot."
"It was a lot, but I'm good. I'll probably have more questions for you after I think it over a little more."
"I'd be disappointed if you didn't," John replied with a smile.
"Is that all of your secrets?" Andrew asked suddenly.
"It's all the ugly and scary ones," John assured him. "If you want to know the rest, you're going to have to stay tuned."
"I can do that."
"I was hoping you'd say that," John said softly as he leaned in for a kiss.
If you'd like me to let you know when a new chapter goes up, just send me a message and I will keep you posted. Thanks for reading, and I hope you have great day!
DurtyRiter@protonmail.com