Date: Wed, 25 Nov 1998 03:18:44 -0500
From: Charlie <charlieje@mindspring.com>
Subject: Kenny Part 10

		  To Everyone, a very HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

       This is a story about a love between two young boys. The usual
disclaimers apply: If you are under the age of 18, or reading such material
is illegal in your jurisdiction, then please leave this story unread
now. There are within the story explicit descriptions of sex between boys,
but that is not the main theme; so if your thing is reading stories that
are purely sex in nature then this story will probably not be to your
liking.
       The story is made up of both fact and fantasy. The people herein are
real, but their names have been changed. The rest of the story, as I said,
is a mixture of fact and fantasy . . .  perhaps how I wish it had
happened. As to what is fact and what isn't, I shall keep that to myself.
Suffice to say that the details of the intimate encounters contained herein
are more than likely not exactly as stated. The encounters did happen, but
not necessarily as described here. After all, who was taking notes?

I have named this chapter "The Helicopters," not because it is all about
helicopters, but because of a very special event that happened. I have
played a dirty trick on y'all by forcing you to decide just what is fact
and what is not. But I did want you to know that the helicopter incident is
ABSOLUTELY TRUE! And so was its effect. To this day I have no idea if my
analysis was correct or not, but it made sense to me then and it still
does. I suspected Kenny of setting the whole thing up, as the Collins
family was so good at doing, but he swore a thousand times that it happened
spontaneously. He was so adamant that he'd not planned it, I just have to
believe him. But there is no doubt in my mind that a simple little
conversation that lasted no more than fifteen minutes changed my entire
life!

			 Kenny_10: The Helicopters

      A lot of the things that happened starting the end of August were
pretty predictable, but at the time I would never have predicted any of
them.  There were also some surprises. In fact lots of them! We had really
taken my father's comments seriously, and vowed to prove him wrong. Anyone
who has had a Gay relationship, even in the 90's, knows that we are
constantly on trial, as if everyone is waiting for the chance to say
"There, you see? I knew it wouldn't last." They say that gay relationships
don't last, that the social pressures are too great, that it's unnatural,
two men can't live together, and on and on ad nauseam!  Well, you are
wrong, society! I don't think the Hetero record is all that great these
days either.  But the fact remains if you're committed, you're committed!
If you're not, you're not! But back on subject, I think we did a pretty
good job of cheering up too, but there were other things - things we hadn't
counted on.
      I was accepted by St. Lukes as their new organist. My induction
ceremony was to be Labor Day Sunday. Oh yes, the music committee made a big
deal out of it, saying that the organist was in many ways a Minister. Of
course no one including myself was comfortable with calling me that,
because of my age, experience, and total lack of any Seminary training; but
functionally the committee went into a great deal of detail to explain that
the organ was the first thing everyone who entered would hear, and so like
it or not I set the mood. The organ starting and stopping was often the cue
for various activities during the worship service, so timing was important.
There were two Sunday services, morning and evening; youth choir Sunday
afternoon, senior choir Thursday evening; and of course there were weddings
and funerals. Of course in good teenage fashion I hadn't thought about all
that, but I found the prospect strangely exciting.
      Kenny got a good laugh when I told him I was about to become the
Minister of Music, saying gleefully that he thought Minister of something
else would be more appropriate. He didn't have to say what that something
was, I already knew.
      Before accepting the position I felt it only right to tell them about
Kenny and me. John Whittaker was definitely against it, but I convinced him
that since I was in a relationship they might find out anyway, so he went
with me to tell George. George wasn't very thrilled about it, even going so
far as to inform me that if he'd known at the outset, I would not have been
a candidate. "But," he said, "I got to know you first, so I know you're not
all bad. But I think we should keep this our little secret."
      "But what about when the rest of the committee finds out?" I worried.
      "You just leave them to me," he assured me.  And so the date was set.

      John was tutoring me almost daily now. I think it was as important to
him that I do well as it was to me; maybe even more so! He didn't work very
much on the mechanics of playing because he said that would come with time;
but he lectured and demonstrated tirelessly on the techniques: which stops
were appropriate for which occasions, when to soften the organ down, when
to open it up.  He explained and drilled me on the correct way to accompany
a soloist, be it voice or instrument. At first I was nervous that he might
make a pass at me, now that he knew I was gay. He had made it very clear
that he found me very attractive, but he was always the gentleman, and
aside from a few hugs, frequent caresses of my neck and shoulders, he made
no offer to get intimate. Eventually I relaxed and just became his willing
student. I think John and I definitely loved each other, but it was a
different love; one that was unencumbered by sex.

      I still had not found a job, primarily because I wasn't looking all
that hard, so Kenny convinced me to at least finish high school since I had
a good average and only one year to go.  Frankly I was looking forward to
that last year.  There was in my mind something almost magic about being a
Senior, almost as if I were part of the management. Any other alternative
would probably mean being apart from Kenny, and that simply was
unacceptable.

      The week after our trip to the beach a carnival came to town. Kenny
and I had planned to go on Friday afternoon, and we had invited Timmy
along. We would have invited Ron too, but he was out of town. Ron had never
shown any interest whatsoever in our bedroom activities, but he was so
effeminate we were confident that there must be some gay bones in there
somewhere. I guess we were as guilty of stereotyping ourselves as we
accused people in general of doing. The plan was simple enough: Have a
great time at the carnival, then back to my place for a night of fun. My
father and Ellen would be going fishing for the weekend, as they always did
during the summer. Transportation was not a problem because the longest
distance between any two points in town was less than two miles. And so we
walked.
      We had a total blow-out at the carnival. We sampled every ride at
least once, the Ferris wheel half a dozen times, even the "horsies" on the
merry-go-round! We laughed at each other, ran about the midway playing tag
and generally just acted like typical obnoxious teens. Of course we weren't
trying to be obnoxious, and in our minds we weren't; but there were lots of
adults who would dispute that point.
      When the money ran out, we just roamed around a while, then we headed
back to my house.  When we got there, as expected, the house was deserted.
Even the tenants, the two women who had rented my sister's and my rooms,
appeared gone for the weekend. Perfect! I should say at this point that
Timmy had no idea what was coming; or should I say we didn't TELL him what
we were planning.  Looking back, I have a feeling that he had his
suspicions.
      By the time we'd had something to eat and cleaned up, it was about
8:00 PM I called Timmy aside as Kenny and I had planned and asked him out
of Kenny's hearing, "You remember what you asked me last year?"
      "Yeah," he answered, looking rather doubtful after all that had
happened since then.
      "You still interested?" I asked.
      "Sure," he replied, "But what about Kenny? I don't want to cause any
trouble."
      "I'll take care of Kenny," I assured him, "You just get ready for a
good time."

      A few minutes later, as I was in the den where I still slept on the
day bed (when I wasn't sleeping with Kenny), Kenny had the exact same
conversation with Timmy. The plan worked perfectly! Now Timmy was not only
curious about the sex itself, but also how we were going to accomplish the
whole thing, each of us apparently not knowing that the other had the same
plan. This was starting to be fun already! Everything we said, every move
we made, got a sharp look of expectation from Timmy. He was very nervous,
but also anticipating what was coming and trying to analyze our every move
for signs that we were starting to "handle" each other.
      In the S&M community they have a thing they call a "safe word." This
is a word or phrase that all agree to before a "scene" whereby the torturee
can use if the activity gets too intense. Of course in 1954 I had never
heard of S&M or safe words, but I did basically the same thing with
Timmy. "If you want me to stop at any point," I instructed, "Just say
'that's enough' and I'll stop, with no hard feelings, ok?"
      "Sure," Timmy said as I led him to the bedroom, "But what about
Kenny? Where'd he go?"
      "I think he's gone out to the garage," I told him, "But I told you,
don't worry about him, I'll handle him."

      The first thing I noticed was how small and delicate Timmy's hands
were. I had never before thought of one's hands as being erotic, but
Timmy's definitely were turning me on. They were like the rest of him: more
child-like than bordering on adulthood. His fingers were long and slender,
his nails perfectly manicured; the skin on the backs of his hands was so
silky-smooth I could not resist rubbing them gently as we walked the few
feet from the kitchen to the den. Once inside I gently pushed the door
closed, then wrapped my arms around his small frame and planted a deep, wet
kiss directly on his lips.
      Timmy emitted a gasp of pure surprise, then another, this time it
came from pleasure as my tongue found his. "Remember," I said when we'd
broken the kiss, "'that's enough' at any time will stop whatever's going
on, ok?"
      "Ok," he panted, "But so far I'm ok. Or at least I will be if you
kiss me again."
      I did kiss him again, only this time he was ready for me. As I've
said before, Timmy's stature bore no resemblance to the functioning of his
brain. In that department he was fully developed, extremely bright, and a
very quick learner. So when our lips touched again, his tongue was there,
anxiously awaiting mine. I probed every crevice of his mouth, then he did
the same to me. He was moaning softly as was I. This was going to be one
killer evening!
      Timmy broke the kiss suddenly and exclaimed "What the..." and then
grinned. Kenny, who had been standing behind the door when we came into the
room, had got on his knees and was now working Timmy's jeans off his small
frame. He had somehow managed to undo the belt buckle and top snap
undetected, and the said garment was now descending, revealing Timmy's
shapely legs and pure white briefs. Timmy the quick learner had already
figured out what we were up to, and the look on his face told us that we
weren't going to hear "that's enough" any time soon.
      "Can I do that to you guys?" Timmy asked shyly.
      "You'd better," Kenny grinned, "We have a rule that says no one
undresses himself." That being said, we all kicked off our shoes, I pulled
Timmy's T-shirt off over his head, and Kenny and I stood there waiting for
this totally gorgeous boy, now dressed only in his briefs, to pull our
jeans down. I watched those hands - those beautiful hands, as they fumbled
with my belt buckle. They were shaking nervously, or was it anticipation?
But they were not shaking too much to do their job, and soon my jeans were
also heading for the floor. He turned his attention to Kenny and did the
same, revealing the loudest, pinkest boxer shorts I had ever seen.
      "Boxers?" I questioned.
      "Yeah, Kenny said, "Like 'em? I just got 'em."
      "I love 'em!" I exclaimed, "Except--except I can't see those gorgeous
buns of yours."  With that I yanked the boxers downward, and Kenny was
exposing his very hard member. Timmy gasped.  Kenny reached his thumbs into
the waistband of my briefs and they were around my ankles, revealing that I
too was fully aroused. Timmy gasped again.
      "Now for the main attraction," Kenny stated.  We each pulled of our
own T-shirts, then grasped Timmy's waistband: Kenny on the left, I on the
right, and began pulling them down, making the action as slow and erotic as
we possibly could. We could feel Timmy's entire body tense up. Again, we
weren't sure if it was shock, fear, or anticipation. But he made no move to
resist as his most private parts were becoming exposed. When the briefs had
descended sufficiently, we were treated to the most perfectly shaped,
uncircumsized four inch extremely hard penis I ever dared hope for.  "WOW!"
Kenny exclaimed, "Did anybody ever tell you you're beautiful?"
      "N--No," Timmy chuckled nervously, "I don't think so."
      "Well you are, man!" I assured him as I gently removed his glasses to
complete the picture. Kenny and I were totally mesmerized by the sheer
unashamed beauty of our friend, soon to become our lover. I found myself
hoping, almost praying, that I would not hear our 'safe words.' I was
beyond rationality now, completely lost in lust!

      I picked Timmy up bodily and laid him gently on the bed. He was as
light, and as limp, as a rag doll! Then Kenny and I both attacked him with
our tongues, licking and kissing every square inch of his body. There was
no hair anywhere, but his muscles were well formed and surprisingly hard.
What he lacked in size he more than made up for in sheer magnificent
beauty! I took his left ear in my mouth and ran my tongue around it. I
looked down and Kenny was sucking his perfect erection. I released his ear
and nuzzled his neck, while Kenny was working his way down the shapely legs
to the gorgeous feet. Timmy made no sound, unless you count the constant
soft moaning that came from deep in his throat.
      Kenny had been the first to taste Timmy's boyhood, so I thought it
only right that I be the first to sample his tiny butt hole. To my surprise
when I arrived there, I found it had a distinctly different taste than
Kenny's; and yet it was the same! Poor little Timmy's circuits were
definitely going into overload when my tongue probed the sphincter, then
entered more easily than I would have thought. He hadn't expected this,
hadn't known what pleasure could be derived from an area of his body he'd
thought was only for expelling waste. Kenny was back at his erection now,
sucking in earnest. From my vantage point behind him I could see Timmy's
ball sack, with its precious cargo of two orbs a little bigger than
marbles. As the sack started to shrink, I felt his body tense, then
shudder almost violently as Kenny's mouth was filled with Timmy's first
ever orgasm. He had obviously been ready and waiting for this moment for a
long time as volley after volley blasted into Kenny's mouth.

      Out of consideration for Timmy, we both released him and lay beside
him, running our hands over his body gently as he came down from the
mountain. We were genuinely concerned that he might have a heart attack, so
intense was his pleasure. "Oh man, that was something!" Timmy exclaimed
when he could speak again.
      "Was?" Kenny questioned, "You mean you're done?"
      "We have only just begun," I whispered in his ear, "We have the whole
night! You got any place you gotta be?"
      "Well, uhhh, no!" Timmy grinned, "But I thought, when you, er, had an
orgasm you were all through!"
      "Not even close," Kenny assured him, "Besides, Charlie and I haven't
had ours yet anyway. We usually have two or three before we quit."
      "Does that mean you want me to--to..."
      "All we want you to do," I interrupted, "Is what you want to do. We
are getting indescribable pleasure out of giving you pleasure! You have a
body most people only dream about!"
      "But--" he said in a voice incredibly like a very small boy, "But I
want to, you know... with my mouth."
      "Not a problem," Kenny assured him, "But first I think you should
rest a little while."

      We hadn't rested very long when, to our surprise, Timmy took the
lead. He wriggled out from between Kenny and me, and before I knew what was
happening I felt the warmth of his lips on my now soft member, and was
staring at Timmy's four incher, which was anything but soft! As the saying
goes, what could I do? It was obvious what he wanted, so I began nibbling
that delicious foreskin, then pushed it back with my lips and took the
whole thing, caressing the head and the sensitive underside with my
tongue. I stopped sucking for a moment to look down my body to see the
incredible sight of Timmy sucking greedily on my person, then was inspired
to resume my task.  Just when I was beginning to wonder what Kenny was up
to, I felt the familiar probing of a greasy finger at my back door. I
concentrated on opening up for him, and soon he was in as far as he could
go. We had never done it like this before, with me on my side and he on his
side behind me. It was different to say the least, and I don't think the
penetration was as deep; but under the circumstances, being impaled while
involved in a 69 was totally HOT! It got even hotter when Kenny erupted in
my mouth, giving me a pretty respectable load, considering that is was his
second in a short time. Of course the anointing of my mouth set me off and
I was giving Kenny his first taste of boy cum, while the spasms in my
behind sent Kenny over the edge. I wanted to taste Timmy's ejaculate, savor
it, analyze it; but the feeling of intense pleasure as I received in both
ends, and contributed at the same time, completely wiped out all other
feelings, all other thoughts.

      "That was so awesome!" Timmy said softly when we were again lying
side by side resting. Of course Kenny and I agreed, telling our new
plaything how much he'd added to our enjoyment.  "Now," he said, showing a
lot more confidence that he'd had two hours before, "I want one of you
to, you know, put it inside me, like you did to Charlie, Kenny"
      "I don't know, Timmy," I said, "It kinda hurts the first time, and
you're pretty small."
      "You think I can't take it?" he challenged.  We had to admit that so
far there'd been no evidence that he couldn't do anything we did, so we
finally agreed, and started taking turns loosening him up with our fingers
while he just lay there and moaned happily, his hands always busy roaming
over our bodies. To my great delight I was elected to do the honors, since
Kenny was now considerably bigger than I was. Kenny of course wanted his
turn, but we all agreed that the smaller the better first time around. Who
ever said that bigger is always better?

      I see no need to go into a lot of detail here about what occurred
next. Suffice to say that after we had prepared Tim for our onslaught for
almost an hour, I had another earth shaking orgasm inside him, and so did
Kenny after I'd broken the path, so to speak. Timmy came through it fine,
thoroughly enjoying the episode and more that I haven't mentioned at all. I
don't even remember how many times each of us had orgasms (who was
counting?), but I think pretty well everyone did everything to everyone
else; when we finally settled down for sleep it was coming daylight.
Needless to say we slept through Saturday morning and into the afternoon.

      I would like to be able to say that we continued our relationship
with Timmy, Not only did we like the little guy a lot, but he was so
adorable, and the most insatiable appetite for sex I'd ever seen, before or
since! He thoroughly enjoyed himself that night and told us so many times;
but once was enough. To my knowledge he never had another gay experience.
He'd been curious, had that curiosity satisfied, and moved on.
      A few months after our fun night with Timmy, his father (also his
doctor) found a hormone treatment for him that finally jump-started Timmy's
growth hormones. I thought it was too bad in a way because he was so cute,
but I was happy for him. He was never a very large man, nor was his father;
but at least his voice changed, and he grew enough so he wouldn't be
considered a freak.  Thanks, Tim, for one barn burner of a night!

      Sunday morning came all too soon for me.  Kenny and I had spent the
night at my house, and just the memory of what we'd done with Timmy set us
off again. Then it was up early in the morning, we rushed back to Kenny's
house for Kenny to get his church clothes, then the entire family,
including Robbie and his new wife, were off to church to watch the
induction service. I'm not going to go into a lot of detail about it
because I'm sure everyone knows more or less how it went. It was a big deal
for me because it was a definite milestone in my regaining some of my self
respect; but the details of who did what to whom are really not important.
      "Is your father going to be there?" Dad C. inquired.
      "Naw," I answered, "He's on the river fishing. I figured he wouldn't
be interested so I didn't tell him."
      "Charlie!" Mom C. scolded, "That's terrible!  This is a big day for
you, and you didn't even give him the chance to be there?"
      "I know," I defended, "But he's never shown any interest in me
before, so why would I believe he cared about this?"
      "You should have given him the chance," Robbie lectured. I wanted to
tell him that he just didn't understand, that he'd always had his dad there
for him, to support and cheer him on; but I let it drop. Besides, about
that time we arrived at the church so we had to go in. It was an incredible
day, with me being fitted with the organist's robe, which was the same as
the choir robes except that the sleeves, instead of being very large and
flowing, were cuffed so they wouldn't get in the way of my playing. At 9:30
there was a short choir rehearsal, at 11:00 the morning service; back to
the church at 5:00 PM for the youth choir rehearsal, and then the evening
service at 7:00. It was hectic, but it was going to be a way of life for me
from now on, and I quickly came to love it! At the same time I missed
singing in the choir, but then I always sang anyway, and as the organist/
pianist I could sing whatever part I was comfortable with.
      The choir, and with it the accompanist, me, were directed by
Mrs. Atkins, the same lady who had played the organ for the past six months
while they searched for a new organist. She was a wonderful musician and a
spectacular pianist, but by her own admission she was no organist, and was
only too happy to relinquish the console to me.  She, John Whittaker and I
very quickly became close friends, and both of them taught me more than I
can ever relate. And more important, they supported me, praised me when I
did well, and they weren't shy about criticizing when I didn't do so well.

      Tuesday, September 7, 1954: The first day of my last year in school!
(Well, if I passed that is). We were really here, and we were together!
Ron, Timmy, me, and of course Kenny! I had been dreading this day for
weeks, as I suspect all teens dread the first day of school in the fall.
But now that it was here I was to say the least exhilarated! We all were!
We were in the home stretch! It was downhill from here! It felt so great to
be seniors! To be the envy of every other student in the school! To be part
of the group that would be having our group pictures taken this year to be
hung in the hallowed halls of the school for all time! To be called out of
class for this picture, that interview, that special yearbook quote! Was
this not even better than our first year? Remember that? When we were six,
or five, or whatever age we started? When the entire world was one big
mystery and about to unfold and reveal itself to us? And now it was over!
We already knew everything there was to know. Yes, we had one more year of
school, but that wasn't for learning, was it? This, our senior year, was
designed to give us the chance to lord it over all the underclassmen; to
parade around in all our glory, showing how smart we were, how we were
above all the others and their schemes. We were SENIORS! We were one step
from having ARRIVED!!!!

      Or, maybe not quite?

      Our numbers had dwindled more than I would have expected this year,
with over half the class that had started in ninth grade having dropped
out. Most of our classes were together now, because the total graduating
class was less than 100! Yes, it was a small school by today's standards,
but we had never thought of it as being small, really. No matter though,
those of us that were left all knew each other for the most part, and we
were a close knit bunch, almost like brothers and sisters in many ways.
Everything, it seemed, was more intimate; like it or not we all knew
everyone else's business, including my relationship with Kenny. Most of the
students had no idea of the extent of it of course, but it was common
knowledge around the school that we were inseparable.

      "Are you trying out for the swim team this year?" Ron asked Kenny.
      "He doesn't have to," I answered proudly, "He's already qualified on
last year's record."
      "What about you, Charlie? Are you trying out?"
      "No," I said, "I'm not that good. I'm kinda busy anyway."
      And so the small talk went, each of us catching up on the other's
lives, especially those whom we hadn't seen much of through the summer. I
guess that's the thing I enjoyed more than anything else about our senior
year: We had learned most of the scuttlebutt about each other, at least we
had thought, and those of us who were left could be easily divided into two
groups.  There were the ones who for one reason or another were committed
to finishing school, and those who had been coasting from the start. We had
known each other now for at least three years, had got through all the
gossip and bullying stage, and now we were ready to settle down and get the
job done.  It was refreshing in a way, but in another way I felt pangs of
regret. We were growing up, and along with all the brightness and optimism
that brings, it also brings a certain sadness. We were no longer children,
and we were finally seeing concrete knowledge of that fact.

      It didn't take long for the socialites of the school to get their
acts together and plan the first school dance. It was to be in the gym as
usual, on the second Friday that school was in session. Kenny and I could
hardly wait, and we had even convinced Ron and Timmy to go. In my opinion
they were far worse off than we: They weren't that interested in girls, or
at least they didn't show it; but they weren't interested in guys either.
But on the rare occasions we could get them to various functions, they
always enjoyed themselves once they got there.
      The dance was a blast! Gone was our shyness around girls. We were all
good dancers and we knew it; we didn't have to worry about their impression
of us because we weren't looking for anything long-term, just a dance
partner. And you know what? The more we relaxed the more attracted to us
they became. Actually the few who knew for sure that Kenny and I were
lovers were very receptive to our advances. Evidently it was a welcome
relief that we were not always trying to get into their pants.
      In mid-October it seemed that this was going to be a great school
year. We'd been to two dances, several house parties; our grades were
coming along nicely and we were even getting along with all our teachers. I
should have known that I was at the top of my roller-coaster life again and
could only go down again.
      I was on my way to the motorcycle shop one Saturday afternoon, for no
real reason than to hang out while Kenny was at swim practice. A lot of
drivers in that time and place had a very nasty habit that I hadn't learned
to deal with. If they were planning to turn left, they would veer as far
right as they could first, apparently to make the turn wider. I was
following a car rather closely when it pulled over to the curb. Thinking it
was stopping I started to pass him on the left. Like most teens would do on
a powerful motorcycle, I was going too fast. The car was suddenly directly
in my path, having turned left into a driveway. I didn't have time to even
think about braking and I was flying over the car, my bike buried deep in
the rear door of the car.
      When I woke up I was in the ER, still not completely cleaned up, and
in a lot of pain. I wasn't hurt seriously, they told me, but my face, arms
and hands were a mess! I had apparently landed face down on the pavement,
still traveling more or less 30 MPH, and had skidded to a stop, tearing all
the skin on any part that contacted the road including my face. Kenny was
there, as was my father and Ellen. "You gave us an awful scare," she said
when she saw my eyes open, "Do you feel all right?" Oh yeah, I thought,
party time! Never better! But I didn't answer. I looked at Kenny, and his
eyes were... well, the sparkle was gone. It was obvious he'd been scared to
death!
      I spent a month in the hospital. Fortunately I had no broken bones,
but they had to do a lot of digging to get all the sand and grit out from
under my skin where I'd slid along the ground. So much for my grades at
school. Kenny faithfully brought me homework and special assignments, but
it wasn't the same. By the time I was ready to go back to school I was 'way
behind. The insurance settlement had ruled in my favor so I had no problems
getting the bike fixed, but there were a lot of medical bills that I
couldn't pay, and I wasn't about to let my father pay them even if he
offered, which he didn't.
      "I have to go back to work," I told Kenny, "And I don't know if I can
make enough part time to pay off those bills or not."
      "I can get a job and help," he offered, "You can't quit school!"
      "I'm not planning to," I answered, "But you're not quitting the swim
team. You're just too god to give that all up!"
      "But the bills!" he protested.
      "They can wait. They can't collect what I don't have, and I'll get
them paid off sooner or later." But it was obvious to me that there would
be no college for me for at least another year or two.

      By Christmas I was pretty well back to normal. I had a brand new
bike, compliments of the insurance company. I tried to take the money for
the bike and apply it to the bills, but the insurance company would not
allow it. So I found myself a job as a technician at the telephone company.
It was a good job, only part-time, with the possibility of going full time
if I did well and wanted it.
      Christmas 1954 was wonderful, even though I had very little money to
buy gifts. My father and Ellen were planning to go to Boston to visit
Ellen's sister. They had invited me along, but I had respectfully declined
(I repeat, RESPECTFULLY!  Could it be that I was growing up?). So at the
Collins request I just gathered up my things and moved in with Kenny for
the holidays. Christmas morning was a very special time that year. There
had been all the usual preparations: food, carol singing, food, friends
coming in, food, sitting around the tree on Christmas Eve, and FOOD! Then
when it came time to open gifts, we all sat in a circle on the floor, Dad
Collins pulled the gifts out from under the tree and handed them to us one
by one. I had never experienced the opening of gifts this way before!
Everyone waited their turn, so we all saw what everyone else got. I was so
impressed that I have carried on that tradition to this day. It was, like
everything else the Collins' did, more meaningful, more considerate of each
other.
      Christmas Day in 1954, in a small city in eastern Canada, was the day
the entire world stopped. There were no stores open, no gas stations, no
movies, nothing! One could not buy a loaf of bread even to ward off
starvation. So after the gifts were unwrapped, the turkey eaten, the long
distance phone calls made, there was absolutely nothing to do but sit
around and enjoy each other's company. And reflect on the past year. And,
what Kenny and I did, go to bed early.  We were so relaxed and at peace
with the world there were no thoughts of sex. We even wore pajamas, which
was becoming a rare occurrence for us. We just lay there for several hours,
talking about nothing in particular, exchanging "I love you's" every few
minutes, caressing, and marveling that being quiet, doing absolutely
nothing, could be so enjoyable! There is a popular expression these days:
"Better than sex!" That expression could easily have been used that night
as we drifted around the universe having no one, needing no one, except
each other.
      Christmas holidays that year weren't that great. There were a lot of
people at the phone company off on vacation, so I was given lots of extra
hours which I appreciated; but it was hell on my social life. No matter
though, it was only two weeks, and then it was over and we were back in
school.
      The second week of January the weather turned bitterly cold with lots
of snow. Kenny and I had walked to his house to do our homework, and
hopefully something else if we could get some privacy. About 7:00 PM I was
just beginning to think about going home when the phone rang. It was Ellen,
and she asked for me.
      "You need to come right home," she instructed. I bristled. I had
never taken orders from her and I didn't plan to start now.
      "What's going on?" I asked neutrally.
      "Just get home," she ordered, "Your father's in the hospital."
      "Hospital?" I questioned, "Why? What's happened?"
      "Just get home!" she repeated, and hung up.

      There had been a huge warehouse fire and my father had been there,
which of course was nothing unusual. He'd been at the back of the building
when a brick wall had collapsed on him and another cop, and it had broken
his back. He wasn't paralyzed, but he was strapped down pretty securely to
prevent all movement until they could assess the damage and do whatever
they had to.
      "You'll have to spend a lot more time around home and not over...
there," he instructed. I noticed that there'd been no pleasantries, no "I'm
sorry," no "I hope you're all right" from me, just instructions; how to
care for the coal furnace, change the air filters, where the snow shovel
was, where to get the car serviced, etc, etc. Of course I knew all these
things because I'd been doing them all since I was 12, but I got the
instructions anyway.
      "Look at the bright side," I told Kenny Monday morning as we walked
to school, "At least I have the car all to myself." But as if reading my
mind, orders came from headquarters (the hospital), that I was not to use
the car unless it was to take Ellen somewhere like the hospital the
supermarket, or some other household errand.
      By the end of February Father was out of the hospital, but still
completely laid up. It wasn't nearly as serious as they'd first thought and
he was going to recover fully; but it would take time.
      "I've got to quit school," I told Kenny one Friday morning.
      "But why?" Kenny asked, panic in his voice, "Isn't your father
getting better?"
      "Yes and no," I replied, "They say he'll make a complete recovery,
but it may be a few months yet before he can work again. And his job on the
police force is over. He has to find something else."
      "But isn't the city paying him while he's off? After all he got hurt
on the job."
      "They're paying him part of his salary, but he says he really needs
my board money now, so I've got to earn more money."
      "Board? What board money? You're paying board in your own home?"

      "Kenny, I'm sorry. You weren't supposed to know about that. Just
forget it, ok?"
      "I damn well won't forget it, Charlie! Now what's this about board?
Why in the world are you paying board?"
      "It was my choice. I volunteered!"
      "But why? You mean to say you can't live at home any more unless you
pay board?"
      "Sure, I can live there. But not the way I'm living. I have pretty
well complete freedom to come and go as I please, but that freedom came
with a price."
      "But Charlie! You've been doing all the work around home, taking
Ellen all over the place, keeping things going. What would they do if you
weren't there?"
      "But I *am* there, Kenny! And like it or not he's my father and right
now he needs me."
      "What about all this freedom? Freedom to do what, Charlie?"
       Kenny was obviously baffled. What could possibly be so important to
me about freedom that I would choose to pay board? And why had I kept it
from him? And then I saw the lights come on in his head.
      "You were forbidden to see me, weren't you?" he asked, already
knowing the answer. I nodded.
      "He told me that I could continue to live there because after all I
am his son, but that I would live by his rules, or relinquish my rights as
his child and pay rent like any other boarder."
      "Well that's easy," he brightened, "You can just move back with us."
      "I thought of that," I admitted, "But of course I can't now. And
besides, I can't go over and sponge off your parents just to avoid paying
board at home. It just wouldn't be right!"
      "What's not right," he said angrily, "Is that he is trying to keep
you and me apart, trying to take away your happiness!"
      "He says I'll thank him for it some day. He said a little work never
hurt anybody. And I guess I have to agree with him there. I can't go to
college, so what's so important about finishing high school anyway? I've
been offered that full time job at the phone company and I'm gonna take
it."
      "I wish you wouldn't, Charlie," he said, trying to use his big brown
eyes again. "Would you at least come and talk to Dad? Maybe there's
something he can do."
      "Sure," I agreed doubtfully, "I'll talk to him, but I doubt that
anything's going to change."

      Well, I never did have that talk with Dad Collins. I'm pretty sure
that he would have insisted that I come to live with them, there would be
another big fight at home, and I would indeed be moving. But all of that
never happened.  At around 11:00 AM the principal's secretary came and got
Kenny out of school. I had no chance to find out what was going on until
noon. I found a phone and called, but there was no answer. I started back
to class but thought better of it. After all, what did it matter if I
wasn't going to finish anyway? So I walked, or rather ran, to the Collins
house.

      The family car was in the garage when I got there. The garage doors
were open, an indication that the car had been out recently. I went around
to the back as was my custom and knocked on the door. It was answered by
Kenny, but certainly not the Kenny I knew. He was haggard and drawn, looked
more like 50 years old than 15. Looking into his eyes, his face, I knew. He
didn't have to tell me a thing, I already knew! And his words confirmed it.
      "Dad's dead!" he said, his voice shaking.
      "How can he be?" I demanded. Could this be some sort of a cruel joke?
Kenny was a prankster, but not capable of something like this.
      "He had a heart attack," Kenny said, and then he lost it. It was
obvious that I would get no more information from Kenny as he went
hysterical, hugging me, clawing at my back, begging God to make it not
true! When Mom C. came to see who was at the door she said tearfully, "I'm
so glad you're here, Charlie. Kenny needs you, and I suspect you need him
too."

      I knew that I'd grown to love Dad Collins, but I'd had no idea the
depth of that love. I was every bit as devastated as anyone else in the
family. And Mom C., bless her heart, didn't help.  "He thought of you as his
son," she said, "Not his son's friend or lover. We want you to take your
rightful place in this family starting right now.  I know he'd want it that
way, and I do too."
      I was with them and helped pick out a casket, arrange the funeral
service; Kenny and I went through his closet and picked out his burial
suit. I wanted to play the organ for the funeral, but was flatly refused.
"Your place," Mom said, "Is with the rest of the family. We need you,
Charlie. Bob had no ear for music anyway, he'd rather you be with us to
support Kenny."

      It's certainly no secret that life is a learning experience. I knew
that and have often wondered if I'd be any better at it if I got the chance
to start all over again. But the thing that has always astonished me is
where we learn what we learn! When we least expect it, we find ourselves
having some experience that has such a profound effect on our lives it
changes us forever. Bob Collin's funeral was like that for me. We didn't
dwell on the loss of a loved man, didn't get all droopy and mournful.
Instead we celebrated! We celebrated that he had gone so quickly there was
no suffering; we celebrated his life, the family he'd left behind, the "job
on earth well done," as the preacher expressed it. That's not to say there
was no sense of loss because there was; deep and profound!  But the
familiar expression "He's in a better place" had meaning! It wasn't just
words!  But be that as it may Kenny needed a lot of comforting during the
next few days, and I like to think that I provided at least some support.

      "What do you mean, you're moving out again?" my father bellowed as I
packed the few things I had. I'd borrowed the Collins car, which I was
filling with everything that I called mine.
      "Dad Collins is gone," I answered, "Now Mom needs me. I'm moving back
over there to help keep things going."
      "Damn it, Charlie, she's got two boys of her own! What am I supposed
to do?"
      "I might have asked you that same question when I was fourteen," I
replied bitterly, "But don't worry, I'll come by every day and check the
furnace, put out the garbage, all that stuff.  Robbie's away at college,
and if I don't move in he'll probably come home, and I'm not gonna let that
happen."
      "I need you here!" he declared, "And you're not going anywhere."
      "I'm going tonight," I said just as firmly, "And you don't have to
worry about me this time because I won't be back. So go ahead and rent the
den too."
      "If you leave tonight," he said quietly, "You bet your ass you won't
be back. So give me your keys to the house now."
      "I'll give them to you when you're back on your feet. I'm gonna need
them till then to do my chores around here. On my schedule it'll be better
if I can just come and go when I get the chance, otherwise I won't use the
keys."
      "So that's the thanks I get!" my father reflected, "You'd rather live
with strangers than your own family!"
      "Dad Collins was proud of me," I said, "and I have to finish high
school -- for him. I can't do that here. I have bills to pay, and board to
pay too. I can't do it all and go to school too.  He cared, Father! He
cared about me and I'm not gonna let him down!"

      My packing finished, I tearfully gave my father a hug, which he did
not return; I said goodbye, and I left. I knew that I was leaving for the
last time, that I would never again call this house my home. And despite
the wonderful home I was going to, I felt a deep regret deep in my gut that
would pain me for years to come. And I knew that too! I was my father's
son; I carried his genes, his family name. But I felt like an exile.
Unlike most exiles, I had a home, a country if you like, that welcomed me,
wanted me, needed me!

      "I'm sorry Charlie," Mom Collins said sternly, "But if that's not to
your liking it's simply too bad. If you're going to live in my home, be my
son, you're going to obey the rules.  And the rules in this house are that
we all do our very best, that we perform to our maximum. And your maximum,
Charlie, is not spending a lifetime as a technician at a small-time
telephone company in the middle of nowhere! You will finish high school,
and you will go on from there!"
      I had never seen Mom Collins like this before! She had been the meek
one: loving and caring and affectionate, but mostly in the background. Dad
Collins had been the moving force, the decision maker, the one to deal
with. But now he was gone, over two weeks now. And it seemed that Mom C.
had simply taken on his responsibilities, added them to her own, and never
missed a beat! This was obviously not going to be as easy as I'd planned.
I'd told my father that I would finish school come hell or high water, but
when reality set in I knew that just wasn't in the cards.
      We had been discussing our future, now that Dad C. was gone. I'd been
included because Mom C. insisted that I was part of the family now. When I
had stated, not asked mind you, stated, that I was quitting school and
getting a job for a year, Mom had gone off! She had basically reminded me
that I was still only 16, and that any decision I made was subject to her
approval. She also pointed out that she was not my legal guardian and so
had no legal right to legislate anything where I was concerned, and that if
I had a problem with her decisions I was free to leave and take it up with
my father, if that's what I so chose. But as long as I was under her roof,
I was subject to her rules, her decisions, and although I had the right to
appeal, she reserved the right to not only final decision, but to reject my
appeal if she so chose. I had wanted to of finish school, but all those
bills had to be paid first; so I was simply taking a year off. Mom pointed
out that lots of teens do exactly that, but most never did return to school
and she would simply not allow me to fall into that trap.
      "I told you not to mess with her," Robbie said, trying hard and
failing to stifle a grin, "If you think for one minute that Mom is a
pushover just because Dad isn't here, you are in for a severe shock!"
      "But--" I protested, "Dad's savings...  There's enough to send Kenny
to UNB. There's not enough for two, and I can't take Kenny's college fund!
That's his! You and Dad C. have saved your whole lives for that!"
      "We'll deal with it!" was Mom C's reply. "We still have a while to
work it all out. In the meantime you WILL stay in school! You WILL continue
as organist at St. Lukes! And you WILL NOT continue at the phone company.
You WILL get your grades up and keep them there! You will NOT concern
yourself with college for the time being.  The who and what and where you
will leave to me!  Oh yes, one more thing. You will stop drinking as of
this moment, and you will not start again until you're 21, which, last time
I heard, is the legal drinking age in Canada. Is that clearly understood,
Charlie?"
      "Uhhhh, yes, ma'am." I answered. I wasn't at all sure it was clearly
understood, but there was no doubt in my mind that the lady I was dealing
with at this moment was certainly not impaired in any way just because
she'd lost her husband two weeks ago. So I agreed. I tried to equate what I
had just experienced to what I'd lived with for the past sixteen years. I
was well accustomed to being told what I was going to do, what I had no
choice in doing, and what would work and what would not. So why was this
different? How did this woman come off, telling me in no uncertain terms
what I would and would not do? Of course the difference was obvious. Her
every word dripped with love, of concern. She wanted the best for me just
like she did her other sons, and if she had to put her foot down to get it,
then that's the way it was going to be.
      "Well," Robbie said with a grin, "You seem to have everything under
control here. Mom, Tanya and I are going back to school in the morning,
before you start in on me."
      "That's a very good idea," Mom said sternly.  And then she grinned,
and then cried. "I want you boys to be the best you can be," she said, "For
Bob, and for you too. I want to be proud of you, and I want you to be proud
of yourselves. All three of you!"

      "Your mom is something else," I said to Kenny as we lay in bed that
night, "I had no idea she could get so wound up!"
      "You ain't seen nothin' yet," Kenny advised, "Don't cross her or
you'll see her get really wound up! I guess I never knew how strong she
could be until... until..."
      Kenny didn't finish, but then he didn't have to. I knew what he
meant; I knew he couldn't say the words yet, but I also knew from personal
experience that it would get better. I knew how much I'd needed Kenny when
my mom had died, so I set about to be there for my love. Even in our grief
it felt so good to be together, to be facing whatever came along as one,
not two. So we did what we did best: we held each other tightly with one
arm and caressed each other with the other.  And I marveled at how
incredibly much I loved this wonderful creature!

      "I'm not going!" Kenny stated flatly. It was April, and his final
acceptance to UNB had just arrived in the mail, subject of course to his
final grades.
      "I don't think I heard you correctly," Mom said in a tone that told
me her blood pressure was rising, "I thought I heard you say that you're
not going to UNB."
      "That's right, Mom, I'm not going. I can't, Mom! You said yourself
that we've got to get Charlie into college. There isn't enough money for
two. Damn, when I look at those fees I don't think there's enough for one!
But if we go to a less expensive college we can split the money and do ok.
We might have to work some, but that's not the end of the world."
      "But you've talked about UNB as long as I've known you!" I protested,
"That's always been the plan!"
      "Plans change," he answered, "And I simply can't go off to the most
expensive university around while you struggle to get an education
somewhere, if you go at all. And besides, I won't leave you! We'll go
somewhere together, or not at all."
      "Just a sec," I said as I had a sudden thought, "My father and I have
been getting along pretty well lately, so maybe he can help."
      "You know that's not gonna happen," Kenny said, "He used your college
fund to pay off his mortgage."
      "Exactly! So the house is free and clear.  All he has to do is take a
new mortgage, and I'll pay it back. We can even set up a legal agreement
requiring me to make the payments."
      "It might work," Mom agreed, "And as much as I hate to admit it,
Kenny's right. There's no way in the world you can both go to UNB with what
we have saved.
      "Ok, then," I said excitedly, "I'll go see him tomorrow."

      I didn't see him the next day, nor the day after that or the day
after that. I swore Kenny to secrecy, then told him that I had no intention
of screwing up his college fund, that I had done a lot of soul searching
and concluded that I was simply not college material. I told him that when
he went to UNB I'd move so we could be together, provide a place for him to
live, and subsidize him when he needed it. I also told him that I knew
they'd spent some of that money to pay my medical bills, so it was only
right. Miraculously I managed to convince him that I had a workable plan.
Or so I thought.

      It was almost a full month later, and there'd been no more talk of
college. Mom had asked me a few times if I'd talked to my father, but I
dismissed it, saying the time just hadn't been right. It was already too
late for me to get into UNB in the fall, but I think we all knew that
wasn't going to happen anyway.
      Kenny and I were sitting in the living room, watching TV. There was a
news program on, showing some military helicopters on some sort of training
exercise. "Man, those things are fascinating," Kenny observed, "I wish I
could figure out how they work."
      "It's simple," I said, "That big rotor is just a big propeller. When
it turns it causes downward thrust and lifts the helicopter. The little one
on the rear keeps the whole thing from spinning out of control."
      "I know that!" Kenny said, "You think I'm stupid? But I mean, how
does it move? How can you make it go forwards, backwards, sideways the way
they do?"
      "I dunno, Kenny," I said honestly, and then I started watching them
closely.
      "Oh I see how they do it!" I exclaimed ten minutes later.
      "Do what?" Kenny asked blankly.
      "The helicopters!" I said with frustration, "You wanted to know how
they move!"
      "Okay, smart-ass. You didn't know a few minutes ago, and now you do?"
      "I think so. I could be all wet but I think I got it figured out. You
see that lump of cams and wheels and things just below the blades, on that
vertical shaft?"
      "Yeah. So what?"
      "Well, I think they control the pitch of the blades. As the blades
rotate their pitch changes so that when each blade is moving toward the
rear, the pitch increases, causing a pushing action of the whole
thing. When they're moving forward the pitch decreases again so there's
more thrust in one direction, and that's the direction it moves."

      Kenny looked at me incredulously. "Where the heck did you learn
that?" he demanded.
      "I told you, I didn't! But if you look at them closely it's easy
enough to figure out."
      "Not for me, Charlie! I never could've worked that all out! Don't you
see? You just sat there and analyzed that machine and out fell the answer!
And you explained it so simply even I could understand it. Damn, if I had
your analytical brain..."

      I did see! As Kenny ranted and raved, called his mom in to tell her
about it, the lights came on in my head. All the efforts of Robbie, Dad and
Mom Collins, Kenny, George Devlin, John Whittaker, my high school teachers,
had failed miserably to give me the self confidence I needed to go after, I
mean really go after my dream. To me it was just that: a dream that was so
unreachable it was laughable. But one ten minute conversation about a
stupid helicopter made me see that I did have a brain! I could analyze
things! In that moment I knew I would go to college. I didn't know how,
didn't know where I'd ever get the money, but I knew it would happen.

      "Are you crazy?" My father said when I'd made my proposal, "You want
me to take my home, the home you rejected, the home that's all mine, and
mortgage it again? Have you lost your mind? Or maybe you just think I'm
stupid."
      "No, Dad, I don't think you're stupid. I just thought that..."
      "You just thought you could come over here and blink your blue faggot
eyes and I'd fold, isn't that right? You thought I haven't done enough for
you already, and this would be my big chance to make it up to you!"
      "Dad, it won't cost you a dime! I'll pay the whole thing back. When I
graduate..."
      "IF you graduate! IF, not WHEN! But we both know you don't have a
snowballs's chance in hell of that happening, don't we? You've been
changing your mind every few weeks, moving here, moving there; You're
quitting high school, but you want to go to college! You're spending hours
and hours sitting at that stupid organ when you could've been out earning
money and saving it. You tear around on that motorcycle, running up bills
you can't pay, hanging out with all sorts of deadbeats. You romp around
every bed you can find with that Collins kid and act just as if it was
normal! And now you expect me to believe that some day you're going to be a
rich, world famous engineer and redesign the Empire State Building?  You
really have lost it, haven't you?
      "Not one penny, Charlie! You don't get a penny from me till you prove
you're serious. Go ahead and go to college. Stick to it for a year or two
and show me you're not failing and we'll talk."
      "Yeah, right! And how do you expect me to do that with no money? I
need the money NOW, not after the second or third term."
      "You heard me, not a penny till you prove yourself."
      "Ok, thanks Dad," I said bitterly, "Thanks for telling me what I've
got to do." And I left.

      I reported back to Mom Collins that night. I have to give her credit,
she managed to hide her feelings pretty well. I think she was pretty
disgusted, or maybe I just like to think so, but outwardly she tried to
make me see the whole thing from my father's perspective. "He's been hurt,"
she explained, "He can't do the job he loves any more, but his house is
paid for. That's his security! To give that up would be really hard,
Charlie. We'll just have to think of something else."
      I did understand, and although I was in somewhat of a temper, I was
secretly relieved that I didn't have to worry about a mortgage on a house
where I didn't feel welcome.

      "Here's a start," Kenny offered as he laid a sheet of typewritten
paper on the table, "I mailed this today."
      Mom and I looked at the paper. It was a letter to UNB saying thanks
but no thanks, he had made other arrangements and would not be able to
attend in the fall.
      "But Kenny," I said, "That's all you ever wanted! You can't do this!
Ron's going to UNB, and so is Timmy..."
      "But you're not!" he said. I could see his deep brown eyes getting
pretty misty, but he managed to hold himself together. "I'd go crazy and
wouldn't do very well anyway if you weren't there."
      "We're almost at the end of the school year," Mom pointed out,
"You're never going to get admitted anywhere else now."
      "I know that. But there are college level prep courses in high
school. We can go back and take them next year, and we can work for the
year and make a little more money. And besides, I'm not even sure I want to
go to UNB any more. It's just so... so preppy! Even stuffy in a way. We'll
do fine, Mom. And besides, I wouldn't feel right leaving you here all alone
so soon after Dad..."
      He didn't finish. He had finally lost it, and then Mom followed, then
me. At that moment I had serious doubts about the justice in the world.
Now Kenny and I had one more thing in common: we had both lost someone who
never should have died!  But they did and we had to deal with it.

				  * * * *

       If you like this story or have any comments or criticisms, please
e-mail them to charlieje@mindspring.com