Date: Thu, 12 May 2005 20:28:42 EDT
From: RitchChristopher@cs.com
Subject: as-i-remember-him-8

All rights reserved. Copyright held by the author. If you are underage or
are offended by gay fiction, containing graphic sex and explicit language,
please exit now.


<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>



                              "AS I REMEMBER HIM"

                                  A story by

                                Ritch Christopher

                                   * * * * *


                   "He made things younger when they were growing old..."
                                                  Portia Nelson (1991)

                                  Chapter Eight


	David awoke with a hangover, a taste in his mouth resembling the
bottom of a bird cage, and a bladder filled with enough piss to douse a
California forest fire. Having found himself in Randy's bedroom, David
stumbled across the floor of Randy's room for his morning
sabbatical. Jesus! How much had he drunk the night before? He tried to
recall as much as possible of the previous night's encounter, as he sat on
the commode. He leaned forward to sniff his underwear, or rather the
underwear Randy had loaned him, for any sexual aromas or residue. As he had
his morning BM, his anus or lower tract wasn't sore and there was no
indication, visual or aromatic, that he had achieved an orgasm, so he was
fairly well convinced that nothing out of the ordinary had transpired
between himself and Randy.

	To clear his head and also wanting to refresh himself, David
decided to shower before leaving Randy's bathroom. When he stepped out of
the tub, he looked at the fancy duds Randy had dressed him in before they
went to dinner and decided that they were more like evening clothes. He
remembered that, after he had changed, he had hung his own apparel in
Randy's closet. So after drying himself, and using some of Randy's
mouthwash and deodorant, he wrapped a large bath towel around his waist and
walked barefooted into Randy's bedroom and opened the large closet. He had
no idea where he had left his underwear or socks, so he opted to put on his
pants, shirt, and shoes without them. Then, fully dressed, he began to
cross Randy's room once again to go into the living room and kitchen area.

	As he passed Randy's bed, he couldn't help but notice Randy, still
fast asleep, totally nude with a large morning erection. There was no doubt
about it, Randy WAS pretty...all over! David stopped for an instant to
admire the sex tool which he realized had enticed his brother and
apparently given him many nights of pleasure. David tried to visualize his
brother having sex with Randy. Had Mark performed oral sex on Randy? No
doubt! Had Mark let Randy invade his rectum? God! How painful that must
have been! Or was that kind of pain a pleasure for his brother? If Mark had
submitted himself to anal sex with Randy, then Mark was surely a bigger man
than David. No amount of love OR money could ever make David allow Randy or
anyone else to fuck him, or even attempt to fuck him, with an organ that
size.

	Still, admiring Randy's sexual organ, David felt it was no more
alluring than if he had paused to look at Michelangelo's "David"...as hard
as the marble in the "Pieta". David took one last glance before leaving the
bedroom. Then he was undecided what to do next? Make breakfast for the two
of them? Call a cab and go...go where? To Thad's? To Chris's? To Chris'
church? To a downtown hotel and check in? Would a hotel allow him to
register without a piece of luggage? Should he go to Thad's and get his
suitcase or call Thad to bring it to him? Jesus! How could he expect to
face Thad after having spent the night at Randy's when Thad had anticipated
David's return to his apartment late yesterday afternoon?

	Damn! He still had to call Chris and make some kind of arrangement
for the planned memorial service for Mark...and then, after the service,
would David feel free to go back to Virginia with Mark's ashes? Hell! An
entire day had gone by and he had failed to call Jenny once as he had
promised. How did he feel about her now? He had kissed and been seduced by
two members of his own sex! Neither encounter had led to an actual sex act,
but they must both be kept secret from his fiancée. David's mind flashed
forward--would kissing Jenny be the same?...touching her lips with his,
lips he had dirtied with male lips. The first analogy which came to mind
was how a husband must feel when having sex with his wife after she'd been
raped...a stranger had invaded his private domain...and David's lips were
supposed to kiss only his wife to be...not a male detective or an Atlanta
pretty boy who had, no doubt, kissed many men before David!

	Was this Mark/Atlanta ordeal as complicated as David seemed to make
it? Or was he just inventing things which seemed to fuck up his mind?



<><><><><><><><><><>

	Even minus the help of Andy, the morning meal run was
uneventful. Everything was delivered on time without a hitch. Although
Tommy and Jeff missed Andy, not once was Andy's name mentioned. This made
Chris very grateful because he could not get Andy off his mind. First,
would Andy recover and become the Andy everyone knew, or would his suicide
attempt change him? No doubt Andy was suffering from depression or he would
never have taken his mother's pills. Secondly, would Andy ever be able to
face Chris after expressing his love for his priest? How would Chris handle
this situation without hurting Andy? Love between a priest and ANYONE was
forbidden, but even if Chris weren't Roman Catholic and was a member of the
Anglican or Episcopalian clergy, could such a relationship exist between
two men? Recently the Episcopal Church had almost split in two over the
naming of a gay Bishop.

	Ever since he was a youngster, Chris loved playing 'devil's
advocate' concerning things which happened around him or which affected him
personally. Prior to 1983 when Pope John Paul II disavowed the role of the
Devil's Advocate, it was a Roman Catholic church official who had been
appointed to argue the case against a proposed canonization or
beatification of a candidate for sainthood.

	In the everyday world, a devil's advocate was someone who would
take both opposing sides of a discussion or argument to reveal all the
facts...and whenever Chris had to make an important decision, he weighed
both viewpoints, even though both were his own, to reason out an answer.

	And so, after finishing the breakfast run and after dropping Jeff
and Tommy home in time for school, Chris took it on himself to logically
argue just how he felt about Andy. He had no doubt that he loved Andy just
as he loved Jeff and Tommy. But Andy had expressed a different kind of love
to Chris...almost a dangerous love. Granted, many priests had felt a
similar emotion toward a young parishioner, some had even gone so far as to
have sex or a longer sexual relationship with an individual, which almost
always ended in a disaster.

	But something which had been buried very deep in Chris had emerged
when he admitted to himself that he was attracted to David. Chris couldn't
deny to himself that, before he took his vow of celibacy, he had enjoyed
physical sex with another male. He had known what it was like to feel
passion and love toward another man and, even more, had enjoyed the
emotional and tangible reciprocity which a former lover had chosen to give
him.

	But Andy was a kid...an eighteen-year-old kid, by legal standards
an adult nonetheless, and eight years his junior. Did that really matter in
a love relationship? In the straight world, age no longer made a
difference...May-December or December-May...but what was the term when two
members of the same sex encountered an age gap in the relationship?
April-November? July-January?  However, this was Andy he was thinking
about, not David. Would Chris come to a different conclusion if David were
gay and they fell in love with a chance to ride off into the sunset, to
live happily ever after in Sleeping Beauty's castle, a la Disney World?

	If he had had a whip, Chris would have lashed his back, cutting it
deeply for even considering something so perverted. HE? CHRIS? Giving up
the Church and his priesthood for a gay lover? Instead he took his fist and
hit his chest hard, hoping the pain would bring him back to reality, away
from a fantasy which the Church would oppose, condemn, and perhaps
implement excommunication proceedings. Then he would be doomed to spend
eternity in hell for sure.

	Then again, David was NOT gay, while Andy said that he himself
was. Andy had also said he loved Chris. Could he love Andy as a male lover?
After all, Andy was a virgin and the only love and sex he would ever know
would be that from Chris'...he'd have no one or nothing to compare it
with. Dear God! What would Todd and Marcia think...and Father Dinsmore and
the congregation at St. Thaddeus! Chris and Andy would have to flee Atlanta
as if to go into a witness protection program to avoid scandal. Hell, the
news of the affair could go all the way to the Vatican...just one more
report of a priest who had hidden his homosexuality until it manifested
itself in a forbidden relationship with a young boy who worked at the
priest's side.

	Chris finally formulated his resolution and decided to drive to the
hospital and have an early morning chat with Andy before Marcia, Todd, or
anyone else got there. Having stopped at the church briefly, Chris didn't
go into details but told Father D. that one of his 'boys' was in the
hospital with some kind of stomach ailment and he wanted to make a quick
jaunt to the hospital to check on him.

	"Which boy?" Father D. asked.

	"Uh...Andy..."

	"I'll remember him in my morning mass."

	"Thanks, Father," Chris said as he hurried out the back door of the
church to his car.

	All the way to the hospital, Chris prayed that he would receive the
strength and find the right words to say to Andy to ease Andy's pain and
curtail some of Chris' guilt. His prayers were interspersed with a dozen
'Hail Mary's' and 'Our Father's'.

	Fortunately for Chris' sake, Andy had been moved to a private room
and since the seven-to-three shift had replaced the eleven-to-seven, Chris
would not have to see or have an additional encounter with Frau Weibchen,
the night admitting secretary. The hospital receptionist had no objection
giving Andy's room number to a good-looking man wearing a clerical collar.

	"Four-twenty-three," she said, politely.

	"Thank you, ma'am..." Chris replied cordially.

	He entered the nearest elevator and was alone as he pushed the
fourth floor button. The lift was slow enough for one more prayer, one
'Hail Mary', and half of an 'Our Father' before the door opened. Rooms 400
to 450 were to the right or so the arrow on the sign said. The hospital
hall was busy with nurse's aides carrying breakfast trays to and from the
rooms. Hospital maids were mopping the hall floors while other aides were
busy changing sheets or carrying bedpans.

	The door to Andy's room was closed and Chris hesitated for a moment
before lightly tapping on it. There was no verbal reply from Andy, so Chris
assumed he was still asleep and pushed the door ajar about ten inches, just
enough to see Andy in the bed.

	Andy's bed was empty which led Chris to believe that Andy was
probably in the bathroom, using the toilet or perhaps brushing his
teeth. So Chris decided to sit down in one of the two chairs provided in
the private room and wait on Andy to finish his morning grooming. But when
ten minutes had passed and Andy still didn't come out of the
bathroom. Chris got up and walked quietly to the bathroom door and tapped,
"Andy?". No answer. "Andy? It's me, Father Chris. Are you all right?" Still
no reply. As a rule, there are no locks on hospital bathroom doors,
especially in a room which houses a patient on suicidal precaution...and
Chris eased the door open only to find that Andy was not inside the
bathroom OR his hospital room...so where was he?

	The nurses' station was opposite the elevator doors, so Chris
walked quickly back down the hall to see what the hell was going on? Had
Andy tried to kill himself again and been put in a padded room for mental
patients? Had he been taken to surgery or x-ray?

	"Excuse me, nurse...but I'm here to see one of my
parishioners...Andy Thompson in room four-twenty-three. Only he's not
there. Could you tell me where he is?"

	"Let me check his chart, Father..." the nurse replied. "Perhaps the
doctor ordered tests or blood work on him and he's been taken to the lab."

	"Thank you."

	The nurse scanned through the chart. There were only a dozen pages,
but she took time to peruse each one using her finger to go up and down
each entry.

	"Father, Mr. Thompson should be in his room. There are no orders
for tests or anything which would require him to leave his room."

	"I just left there and he's not in his room OR his bathroom."

	"Perhaps he walked down to the visitor's room at the end of the
hall to get a magazine. Wait and I'll go with you."

	"Thanks, nurse!"

	Chris and the nurse made their way through the aides, maids, carts,
and mop buckets, down to the end of the hall. The visitor's room was
empty. No one was there.

	"This is very strange, Father. Let me go back to my desk and alert
security. I'm sure he must be around here somewhere," she said, returning
to her desk, but this time she was running. Chris felt another sinking
feeling in his abdomen. "Oh God, now what?"

	An hour passed. Every room on the floor had been checked for Andy's
whereabouts. In the meanwhile, the nurse had called Marcia and Todd to see
if Andy had returned home without the hospital staff's knowledge. Now
Marcia and Todd became panicked. Todd told Marcia to stay at their house
just in case Andy DID come home and he would go to the hospital to help
with the search.


<><><><><><><><>

	Tim Curry was a member of the Atlanta pseudo-elite. He went to all
of the best parties and knew all the upper '400' by their first names only
because he had decorated so many of their posh homes or sold them some
ghastly antique piece of furniture on which he had jacked up the price to
make it appear to be a valuable heirloom. Christ! How many sofas and chairs
had Napoleon and Josephine really owned? Tim drove a yellow Lamborghini and
bleached his hair almost the same color. His wardrobe was on the extreme
feminine end of Metrosexual. On his fingers were rings that Liberace would
have hocked one of his pianos to own. It was impossible not to notice his
finger jewelry because Tim talked as much with his hands as his did with
his colored lips.

	Tim always arrived an hour earlier than any of his employees at his
shop. His was always the first car in his parking lot--except today. Since
Curry's lot was a tow-away zone for non-customers, Tim couldn't imagine
whose car had invaded his private area...surely not a customer because his
store hours were plainly printed on the glass of his front door and it was
still over an hour before time to open. Tim almost didn't get out of his
car for fear the strange car might belong to a robber who might have wanted
Tim to open his safe when no one else was around. Tim let his car idle for
several seconds before turning off the motor in case he needed to get away
quickly.

	Finally, the driver of the mysterious auto got out of his car and
Tim recognized Thad. Thad was waving at Tim to hurry and get out. Tim
turned off his motor and stepped out as Thad yelled, "You had to wait for
Barry Manilow to finish before getting out?"

	Tim yelled back, "No! I don't have a Barry Manilow CD..."

	"Then who the fuck were you playing at your house the last time we
slept together, Celine Dion's brother?"

	"I didn't say I didn't own a Barry Manilow CD, I was merely stating
that I don't have one in my car."

	"Well, are you gonna come unlock your door or do I have to arrest
you for loitering?"

	Tim locked his car door and walked toward the impatient Thad. "I'm
not open for business yet."

	"Good! That means I'll have your undivided attention," Thad
replied.

	"Thad, are you here on police business?"

	"No, I want to see you about a personal matter..."

	"I hope you don't intend for us to have sex this time of the
morning..."

	"Shit! I'd never have sex with you in broad daylight. The few times
I've fucked you, I had to have the lights turned completely dark. If I had
to stare at that ugly face of yours while I'm trying to get off, I'm sure
I'd lose my hard on."

	Tim scoffed, "...and a pleasant good morning to you, too,
officer. Now what kind of personal business are you here to see me about."

	"I...I wanna buy some things...LOTS of 'em and I wanna pay
cash...or rather use my debit card, which is the same thing as cash..."

	"You mean furniture?"

	"Furniture, rugs, lamps, curtains, doo-dads, knick-knacks...I want
you to call one of your decorators ASAP and have my apartment painted from
floor to ceiling and it's got to be done by early this afternoon!"

	"Jesus Christ! Thad! Don't you watch the news? Michelangelo died
some time ago and he was the only worker on my roster who painted
ceilings."

	"Then call one of Mike's gay boyfriends! I want my place
redone...redecorated from front to back, front door to the back bedroom
wall...and I don't give a shit how much it costs."

	"Are you high on something? Isn't it a little early to be
snorting?"

	"I'm dead fuckin' serious, you little cocksucker! I want you to
pick out everything and make sure it matches and is in good taste."

	"Good God! Is your mother coming for a visit, Thad?"

	"Not unless someone exhumes her body."

	"Then you ARE serious?"

	"Serious as a broken condom."

	"Can I ask what's going on?"

	"I'm tired of living in a rat trap. My place looks like a condemned
skid row tenement. This morning, I threw everything in my apartment along
side my dumpster except for the mattress I bought from you. It's totally
empty. All I want you to do is have it painted and decorated real
elegant-like by three this afternoon."

	"Jesus, Thad. That's only a little over seven hours!"

	"God made the whole world in six days...if He had been gay, it
would've taken longer...the sky would've been lavender and the grass
chartreuse. However, I don't see any reason why you can't do your 'fag
magic' and redo a living room, a bedroom, a kitchen, and a bathroom in a
matter of hours."

	"I can probably get it done by then, only I'll have to have double
or triple the help where I would normally hire one man for the job. That
WILL cost you more."

	"Tim, I've already said that money is no object unless I find out
you've cheated me or overcharged...then I might be forced to strike you
with the strong arm of the law."

	"Meaning...?"

	"Meaning that I could arrest you for giving blow jobs to three
fifteen-year-old boys."

	"Thad, you know that I've never..."

	"Then I'll find three who swear that you did!"

	"Oh, forget it! Come on in and let me show you some couches and
chairs."

	"I don't want to see them. I want YOU to pick 'em out. You're the
interior decorator with the lisp. You own this store and I'm paying good
money for you to please me...the same as when you paid me the first time to
fuck you."

	"I never paid you to..."

	"Who's word will stand up in court...an officer of the law or a
prissy little cocksucker?"

	"Follow me and I'll do the best I can."

	"How about giving me a running total as you go?"

	"I'll have to contact my paint contractor first."

	"What's his name?"

	"Emory...Emory Harrison..."

	"Hell, I know him...and he DOES suck little boys' cocks. Tell him I
want a rush job on the painting or he might find himself at an
arraignment."

	"Dear God, Thad! I just wish I knew whom you're trying to impress,
or have you been bitten by a love bug...and I pity the guy...!"

	"Why did you say that? Are you willing to concede that I'm the best
fuck you ever had?"

	"Well, I guess you were..."

	"Then, why...'pity the guy'?"

	"I simply pity the guy who tries to live with you. He's either an
S&M slave or he's got bigger balls than yours."

	"Who says ANYONE is gonna live with me? I just want my place to
look nice for a change. It's for ME and nobody else!"

	"If it's just for you...why the hurry? Why does it have to be
finished by three this afternoon?"

	"Because that's when everyone is supposed to arrive for the
Tupperware party I'm giving, asshole!"

	"Jesus! Tupperware and Jack Daniels...and to think they sent Martha
Stewart to jail for lying..."

	"As a policeman, I still can't believe she got convicted. Now you
take that DeLay asshole in Congress...he's told so many lies they can't
decide which one to use against him, but he hasn't even been indicted
yet. Oh, by the way, I'm serving tea...GREEN tea at my party."

	"Oh, that's right, marijuana IS green before it's dried."

	"Tim, you're wasting time with your standup 'unfunny' routine. Now
will you please get to work and fix up my place?"

	"It appears I have no choice or face a long jail sentence. You take
a seat and I'll perform a miracle."

	"That's more like it, Tim! I knew I could count on you!"

	"What are friends for, Thad?"

	"IN or out of bed?"

	"Skip it!"

<><><><><><><><>

	David decided he owed a phone call to Jenny and he decided to use
one of Randy's phones but charge it to his own credit card which his dad
had been less than eager to give him when David entered college.


	David sat down on the sofa where he had slept and gathered his
thoughts before dialing. He owed Jenny a call as he hadn't called her the
day before as he said he would. He didn't know what to say to her,
certainly nothing concerning Thad or Randy. That would be insane. In
retrospect, his actions with Mark's two former boyfriends had been indeed
insane. He didn't understand them himself, so how could he possibly relate
any part of his pseudo-trysts to the girl he was supposed to marry? Shit!
He hadn't really had sex with Thad and had only been the passive partner
when Randy went down on him, but what kind of heterosexual goes around
kissing other men and receiving blow jobs from strangers whom he's just
met? Why had he become so intrigued by gay sex and gay men? Was he simply
trying to understand his late brother better or was it really more of his
own personal curiosity? Reliving the pleasure Randy had given him the night
before, David was almost sorry that he had enjoyed it so much, No orgasm
from Jenny or any of her predecessors had ever satisfied David or given him
such an erotic sensation as Randy had provided.

	He picked up the phone to dial and almost immediately set it back
down. He needed a cigarette and he didn't even smoke...a drink perhaps?
Liquor? Before breakfast? He really wanted something to settle his nerves,
especially when he noticed his hands shaking when he held the phone.

	'Dammit! What's wrong with me?' David said to himself. 'You're
calling Jenny, the one who's to be my other half! I should be able to tell
her anything. I could never confide in my parents or anyone, including,
Mark, the way I can with Jenny!' But David realized that his secret was
something far beyond Jenny's comprehension. Not merely the fact that she
was a woman, but she had been reared in the same narrowly focused universe
in conservative Virginia as he had.

	David quietly went back to the bathroom through Randy's bedroom,
only this time he vowed he would not look at his host...naked, clothed, or
otherwise.  He carefully opened Randy's medicine cabinet and saw several
prescription bottles for various purposes...Bactrim, an antibiotic; some
generic antihistamine for sinus infection, Vicodin, a pain-killer; (David
knew all about the danger of this drug and passed over it quickly.)
Finally, he saw one labeled Alprazolam, generic for Xanax for anxiety. He
opened the bottle and poured out one tablet, then broke it in half, and put
the partial pill in his mouth. He winced instantly because this had to be
the bitterest pill he'd ever tasted. He grabbed a cup beside Randy's
toothbrush and drank two full glasses of water to wash away the
aftertaste. He put the bottle back on the shelf, closed the cabinet, and
tiptoed back across the bedroom to the living room and sat back down for
the medicine to kick in. After waiting fifteen minutes he began to feel
relaxed and thought he had enough stamina to call his fiancée.


	Jenny answered the phone on the first ring.

	"Hello?" Jenny answered in her best southern drawl.

	"Hi, sweetheart..."

	"David! Oh, honey, I was so worried! How are you?"

	"I'm fine, honey, just fine."

	"When you didn't call me yesterday, I didn't know what to think..."

	"I'm sorry. I had to make arrangements for Mark and things got
sorta complicated and I...I had to do a lot of thinking, with several
decisions to make."

	"What did you decide, David?"

	"I...I hope this won't be too much of a shock to you, but...I've
decided to have Mark cremated."

	"Oh, my Lord, I've never known anyone who was cremated before...!"

	"Actually, neither have I...but it seemed the right thing to
do. The cost of a funeral was out of sight...unless I called my dad to pay
for it, but I was certain he wouldn't dole out a dime for Mark...not even
knowing that his son was dead."

	"David, I've always said you sell your dad too short. He couldn't
possibly have hated Mark as much as you believe he did."

	"Jenny, you know that neither Mom nor I was never allowed to even
mention Mark's name when Dad was around...and if he thought Mark died from
some 'gay' disease, he definitely wouldn't want to know about it!"

	"I suppose you're right, but still..."

	"I wanted to call you and discuss it with you, but after I made up
my mind about the cremation, I hurried before anyone could talk me out of
it...including myself."

	"So, darling, when are you coming home?"

	"I'm not sure, Jenny. This priest with whom Mark was friend's,
wants to have some kind of memorial service for Mark and invite all his
friends. We haven't arranged that, but I'm sure it'll be a couple of days
from now."

	"Where are you staying? Did you check into a hotel?"

	"I...I slept in a back room at the priest's church on a cot," David
lied and hated himself for it immediately; he had never lied to Jenny
before...but rather than tell her the truth, that he had slept next to a
gay detective one night and at Mark's lover's apartment the
next.............

	"David, are you short of money? I mean, can't you afford a hotel?
You know you can put your hotel room on one of my credit cards..."

	"No, I...I have plenty of unused credit on my Visa, so I don't
really need money."

	"Then why don't you check into a hotel for the remainder of your
stay in Atlanta? You know you'd be more comfortable in a nice bed with
clean sheets and a private bathroom."

	"You're right, as usual. I guess that's what I'll do as soon as I
hang up."

	"You WILL call me and tell me where you're staying, won't you?"

	"You know I will. I don't want you to worry, Jenny. It's just that
I've got so many things on my mind. I...I can't decide whether to bring
Mark's ashes back to Virginia or leave them here in Atlanta. This WAS
Mark's home for the past two years."

	"Well, whether it's here or in Atlanta, you ARE going to bury them,
aren't you? I remember that Clint Eastwood movie where he scattered Meryl
Streep's ashes off a bridge. They blew all over the place and those that
landed in the river below went to God knows where! Mark won't even have a
tombstone for us to visit and decorate with flowers. If he's buried here, I
can plant a bunch of azaleas and they would look so nice. You, or both of
us, could visit him every weekend."

	"Yeah, and when we weren't looking, my dad could come knock over
Mark's tombstone and rip out the azaleas. Mom would be at the cemetery
every day and Dad would make her life miserable."

	"David, in your heart, you don't really believe your dad would do
that, do you?"

	"In my heart? Definitely!"

	"Oh, honey, I know how difficult this must be for you. I just wish
I could be there with you."

	"So do I, Jenny. So do I..."

	"Would you like me to fly down for Mark's memorial service? I'd
love to meet some of his friends."

	"No, one of us skipping classes is enough, It's best if you
stay...in case you get wind that my dad knows something about where I
am...and the reason for my being here."

	"David, I do have to tell you something...and I hope you won't be
too mad at me."

	"Honey, we're a couple. We're going to be married and I love
you. There's nothing that you could do to make me mad at you."

	"Are you sure?"

	"That I love you?"

	"No, silly...that you won't get mad at me."

	"I promise."

	"Well, I know I promised that I wouldn't say anything to anyone
about Mark's death, but...well, I did tell one person..."

	"Who, Jenny?"

	"Well, yesterday when I went to the mall, I ran into an old friend
of Mark's. Do you remember Luke Sparks?"

	"Vaguely...I also know that Luke was involved the night my dad
threw Mark out of the house."

	"When Luke saw me, he asked if I used to live a few doors down from
Mark and of course I said yes. Then he asked if I knew how Mark was...or
WHERE he was."

	"I guess Mark never got in touch with Luke once he moved here to
Atlanta. What did you tell him?"

	"Oh, David, I wanted to lie...I REALLY did, but my eyes filled up
with tears as soon as he asked about Mark and I'm afraid my actions
betrayed the truth. So I told him that Mark died the day before and, David,
Luke turned white as a sheet! He was absolutely stunned and then I saw
tears in his eyes. Then he asked me HOW Mark died and I guess I gave away
too much information but I told him about Mark's hepatitis C. Then Luke got
really weak. I thought he was going to collapse, so I led him to one of
those benches in the middle of the mall and set him down. After he got his
breath, he asked where you were...and I told him about your being in
Atlanta to arrange Mark's funeral."

	"Oh, God, you don't think he'll tell anyone, do you?"

	"I made Luke swear to me that he wouldn't. Then he asked if I knew
how to contact you in Atlanta and of course, I didn't. That was no lie. I
didn't know where to reach you..."

	"What did he want?"

	"He wouldn't tell me. He just said he had to talk to you about
something very important."

	"I've wondered for two years what happened to him after that night
my dad caught him and Mark in bed together. I'm sure my dad called his
folks and told them about it! I kept thinking that maybe his parents had
thrown him out of their house as my folks had done to Mark. I guess I was
hoping that Mark and Luke would get together some place...move in
together...and live out the rest of their lives. But I guess there are no
gay fairy tales with happy endings."

	"I don't believe I've ever heard of a gay fairy tale, David."

	In his mind, David thought about the redundancy, but said, "Me,
either, but I'm sure there must be some in some library."

	"David, Luke gave me his phone number and asked me to call him if I
found out where he could reach you."

	"What did you tell him?"

	"I didn't promise that I would. I wanted to talk to you about it
first."

	"I don't think that's a good idea...I mean, not right now. Maybe
I'll give Luke a call when I get home..."

	"But don't you think Luke would want to be at Mark's service if he
can get there?"

	"Probably, but I can't think of a good reason why he would WANT to
be here now that Mark's dead."

	"To pay his respects, sugar. I'm sure he must've loved Mark, at one
time or another."

	"Let me think it over and I'll decide later and tell you what to
do."

	David was unaware that Randy had risen from bed and was standing in
his bedroom doorway listening to the conversation with Jenny.

	"Hiya, handsome!" Randy said, smiling. He was wearing only a pair
of boxers and stood there with his arms crossed.

	David nearly dropped the phone when he heard Randy's voice. But
Jenny heard it too.

	"Who said that, David? Who was that man who just spoke? Was he
talking to you? Did he call you 'handsome'?"

	"Uh...yeah...it was a friend of Mark's who stopped by the church to
pick me up to take me out for breakfast."

	"A...'gay' friend of Mark's?"

	"Well, yes..."

	"Why did he call YOU handsome?"

	"You don't think I am?"

	"Of course I do, silly. But men don't call men 'handsome'..."

	"That's just gay jargon...lingo...they all talk that way. You and I
have never been around gay people enough to learn how they address one
another..."

	"Well, you're certainly not one of them, so why would he call you
that?"

	"It's the same when anyone calls someone 'honey' over the
phone. They don't really mean it. It's just an idiom. I've called telephone
operators 'honey' and I've never even met them."

	"Then why don't you tell whoever it was that you're NOT gay and not
to say things like that to you?"

	"Jenny, it's just southern hospitality. We're from the south...only
Atlanta is farther south."

	"Ready for breakfast?" Randy asked, in a very sexy tone.

	"Yeah! Sure! We can leave as soon as I change my clothes!" David
replied, putting on a big act for Jenny's sake. "Jenny, this friend of
Mark's is here to pick me up and I don't want to keep him waiting. Look,
I'll call you as soon as I check into a hotel."

	"Promise?"

	"Of course."

	"I love you, David...and you'll be in my every thought and prayer
until you return."

	"Me, too, Jenny! Gotta go! Bye, honey."

	Jenny didn't get to say her goodbye before David quickly
disconnected their conversation.

	"Was that your...your 'intended'?" Randy asked.

	"That was Jenny...yes. I...I charged the call to my credit card."

	"You didn't have to do that..."

	"Thanks, but since I didn't ask first, I put it on my Visa just the
same."

	"How much did you tell Jenny? You know, about what happened between
us yesterday?"

	"You've got to be kidding!"

	"I was..." Randy grinned. "I, uh, hope you slept all right on the
couch. You...well, you kinda passed out and I started several times to wake
you to go to bed, but you were sleeping so soundly, I thought it best to
leave you alone."

	"The couch was fine...Really!"

	"At least you didn't have to share a bed as you did night before
last with Thad...not that I would've minded sharing a bed with you."

	"I guess I'm glad you let me be since I don't remember falling
asleep. It's not like I don't trust you, Randy, but what you did to me
yesterday...I was wide awake and not the least bit intoxicated. I shudder
to think what might have happened if we slept together while I was passed
out drunk."

	"Wanna know the truth?"

	"Yes."

	"Nothing would have happened. Sure, I've taken guys to bed who were
tipsy or mildly drunk, but never when someone was in the condition that you
were. I find no pleasure in that. It's like going to bed with a manikin or
a blow-up doll. I get no thrill when my partner can't respond to what I
want to do."

	"Again, I should be grateful to you...and I'm glad I was drunk!"

	"Don't get me wrong," Randy said, sitting on the couch facing
David's. "It's not like I didn't find you attractive. I did...I still
do. You are one handsome guy, just as Mark was."

	"Thanks, I guess..." David replied, somewhat uncomfortable with the
compliment. "Uh...can I ask you something...hoping it won't give you the
wrong impression,,,?"

	"Sure..."

	"I'm still confused about this guy/guy making out. I also realize
that you found my clothes out of sync...until you dressed me to the
nines..."

	"Go on..."

	"All right...you just told me I was handsome..."

	"And you are..."

	"But as a gay guy, do you find me sexy...in spite of my wardrobe?"

	"I found you sexy in or out of your clothes as I exhibited in the
hot tub yesterday. If you want to hear it...yeah, I find you 'hot'!"

	"Thanks, let's leave it there and let's change the subject..."

	"It's my turn. Can I ask you one question?...something that kept me
awake most of the night."

	"That's fair. Go ahead."

	"I...I'm wondering why you kissed me and let me return your kiss?
Were you attracted to me?"

	"I can't answer that, Randy, because I'm not sure of the answer
myself."

	"Your kiss was more than just a friendly kiss, you seemed to be
filled with passion."

	"I know, you're right, and it's driving me insane. PLEASE! Can we
just drop it for now?"

	"Sure. How about some breakfast?"

	"Great! I'll help you cook it! It'll help ease the tension I'm
feeling between us right now."

	"Pancakes? Waffles? Eggs and bacon or sausage?"

	"I'll have whatever you want. I like everything. I'm a southerner,
too ,in case you forgot."

	"That's right, Virginia did fight on the Confederate side, didn't
it?"

	"So what are you in the mood for?"

	"You should rephrase that..."

	"What do you want for breakfast?"

	"That's better, I suppose, although.... How about pecan waffles
with fresh peaches and whipped cream and some link sausages?"

	"I could think of nothing better myself..." David said, jumping up
to go into the kitchen.

	"David, one more thing..."

	"What?"

	"Several times last night at the restaurant, I caught myself before
I called you, 'Mark'. If I should slip...please don't take it
personally. You remind me so much of him."

	"I'd be flattered if you did call me 'Mark'."

	Randy walked up closer to David than perhaps he should
have...almost face to face and said softly, "Dear God, you'd be so easy to
fall in love with..."

	"Randy, I said it was okay if you called me 'Mark', but I'm NOT
Mark and I'm NOT gay..."

	"Sorry...it's just that I've seen Mark standing right where you are
so many times and it's taking all my willpower to not take you in my arms
and kiss you.  He and I shared so many breakfasts
together. David...please?"

	"Randy...please, NO!"

	"Just one...?"

	"No...Randy, please stop it!"

	"Aw, fuck it! Go ahead and hit me if you want to...it's worth it,"
Randy said and he quickly put his arms around David and kissed him hard on
the mouth. David put both his hands against Randy's chest to push him away,
but Randy seemed to have some super-natural strength and resisted. Randy
momentarily feared that David would bite his tongue if he tried to push it
between David's lips but he risked the consequences and invaded David's
mouth just the same until their tongues touched.

	Suddenly, David's will to fight back subsided and he gave in to
Randy's desire. What the fuck was happening to him? He actually wanted
Randy to kiss him! Randy moved his face next to David's so that his mouth
was next to David's ear and he whispered gently, "Mark, I love you so
much. I'm so sorry about everything...I'm just glad that you've come back
to me..."

	David wasn't sure if the nominal transference meant that Randy had
gone temporarily insane, but he thought that maybe he should let Randy bask
in the long-needed forgiveness, the restitution Randy had never received
from Mark when they ended their relationship...and much to David's
surprise, he heard himself reply, "It's OK, Randy. I forgive you...you know
I never stopped loving you..."

	David would never understand why he assumed Mark's role but, for
the moment, it was what Randy needed. And as for David's need.....?


<><><><><><><><><><><>


	The Bible says that God created heaven, earth, man, woman, and all
the flora and fauna in six days. Sound impossible? Perhaps, but it was
finished anyway. Three o'clock arrived and Tim Curry had created a new
world for Thad. Thad's apartment was finished from ceiling tiles to
bathroom tiles and all the furnishings and fixtures in between. Thad was
amazed but not quite as amazed as Tim...as he had never worked so
vigorously on a decorating job in his life...at least one with so tight a
deadline.

	The decor might seem a bit ostentatious to most people but, to
Thad, it was like a luxurious three room palace plus bath. Tim had
purchased nearly all the items at cost and gotten the painting, plastering,
and carpeting done for practically nothing...some kind of trade where only
Tim knew what was to be traded at a later date. So when Thad asked him how
much he owed, Tim handed him an itemized statement for nineteen thousand
dollars. Thad was extremely happy, especially since Tim had no knowledge
that Thad had been willing to spend the entire sixty-two thousand dollars
in his bank account, if that had been necessary.

	When Tim and all his crew and workers had left by 3:15PM, Thad
walked from room to room, touching everything, feeling every piece of
fabric, turning all the kitchen appliances on and off, on off and off,
EVERYTHING was new and all of it matched. Thad had never had anything quite
so lavish or opulent in his life...not even when he lived with his
parents. He couldn't wait for David to come by to get his luggage and 'ooh
and ahh' over the apartment's transformation.

	Seemingly, Thad didn't have to wait long because, at exactly
3:30PM, he heard a knock at his door and rushed to answer it, after first
pausing to look around just one more time. David was sure to be
impressed. Thad took a deep breath and opened the door.

	Standing in the hallway, was not David, but Father Chris...which
caused Thad's heart to sink as his face dropped the fixed smile.

	"Father!"

	"Thad! I'm so glad you're home," Chris said, with a extremely
perturbed look on his face...then it changed to a look of amazement. "Good
God in heaven! When did all this happen?" Chris was in awe of Thad's new
decor.

	"I...I just sorta vacuumed and straightened up my place a
little..." David replied, rather over-matter-of-factly.

	"Well, whatever brand of vacuum cleaner you used, I'm going to get
one myself. You did a tremendous job!"

	"Thanks, it was all in a day's work..."

	"Thad, I apologize barging in on you like this...but I need your
help!"

	"Sure, Father, when have I not helped when you asked me?"

	"Never...that's why I'm here."

	"Don't tell me that you've broken some law and the cops are after
you! Jesus! You're the last person I'd ever suspect to..."

	"Oh, it's nothing like that. One of my boys, Andy Thompson, was in
the hospital and he's disappeared...VAHISHED! and no one has seen him since
early this morning!"

	"Sit down, Father, and tell me about it..."

	Chris mentioned nothing about his and Andy's late night
conversation, nor did he tell Thad about Andy's suicide attempt. He only
gave sketchy details about Andy being in the hospital with a stomach
ailment and his being upset with his parents...and then how he, Chris, had
discovered Andy missing from his hospital room.

	Thad tried to convince Chris that everything would be all
right. "You know how kids are...hospitals scare most of them half to
death. Andy probably just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible!"

	"I called his parents and they've heard nothing from him either!"

	"So Andy didn't go home?"

	"No, and Todd and Marcia are frantic...just as I am."

	"So what do you need me to do?"

	"Thad, I know you called in sick at work to have a few days to
grieve for Alex, but I wish you could call your precinct and have them look
for Andy."

	Thad sat silently while he thought and finally asked, "Father, I
know that your lips are sealed from saying things which are said in
confession...but is there something you AREN'T telling me? Something that
wouldn't break your vow?"

	"Maybe I did leave out a few details..."

	"Father, why don't you tell me all that you can...and then I'll see
what I can do."

	"This is rather awkward for me, Thad. Usually I listen to your
secrets but, for Andy's sake, I will tell you some things...but I trust
that you will keep them a secret as if you were the Father Confessor."

	"I swear it won't go any further than these walls."

	"All right, last night when I finished the evening meal run, I took
Andy home...and on the way, he told me..."


<><><><><><><><><><><>


(To be continued in Chapter Nine of "As I Remember Him").