Date: Wed, 3 Dec 2014 09:00:35 -0800
From: Macout Mann <macoutmann@yahoo.com>
Subject: Sam Caldwell's Further Adventures 10

This story contains explicit sexual activity between men.  Please read no
further if you are offended by such or if you are a minor.  Any resemblance
to actual persons or activities depicted is purely coincidental, but actual
places and events are mentioned to add a sense of reality to the story.

Please also donate to nifty.org to keep stories like this one coming to you
free of charge.

And please let me know your reaction to the story.  It means a lot to hear
from readers.  Write me at macoutmann@yahoo.com.



                       SAM CALDWELL'S FURTHER ADVENTURES


                                by Macout Mann



                                 Chapter 10

                                   Sorrow



Early on the following Wednesday Sam gets a telephone call from his mother.
A very rare happening.  Mrs. Caldwell still lives back in the days when
using long distance was a big thing.  Whenever Sam calls her, he can count
on being chided for spending so much money on the phone.

"Sam," she began, "they put your father in the hospital last night."

"They?" Sam asks.

"He was sitting on the porch," she answers.  "He just keeled over.  I
called Mr. Kirchner from next door.  He said we oughta call an ambulance.
They put him in the hospital."

Where?" he asks.

"Columbus Regional," she answers.

Sam knows any further conversation would be futile.  "I'll be there as soon
as I can," he says.

He packs what he thinks he'll need, and charges off.  He arrives in
Columbus before ten o'clock, calls his mom on his cell phone and tells her
he's going directly to the hospital.

Once there, he identifies himself and at the nurses' station asks who his
father's attending is.

"Dr. Witherspoon was on call when he was brought in," the nurse advises.

"Is he here now?" Sam asks.

"I believe so.  I'll have him paged."

Sam goes to his father's room and finds him heavily sedated.  In a lucid
moment Sam tells him, "I'm here Dad.  Your son, Sammie."

"I aint got no son," the old man mumbles.

The nurse advises Sam that Dr. Witherspoon is in the hospital and will be
up as soon as he can.  He arrives a half hour later.

"Your father has very serious colon cancer, virtually inoperable," the
doctor tells Sam.  "When he was checked in, his blood pressure was so low,
he could have died at any moment.  He must have been in acute pain for
months.  Hasn't he complained?"

"All that I've been told is that he's had colds," Sam responds.  "I live in
Atlanta and what I know I learn through my mother and a mutual friend.  Dad
wrote me off years ago, when he found out I'm gay."

"I see....

"Well, your mother was not very responsive last night.  The radiographic
studies that we have done show that almost all of your father's colon would
have to be removed, if we were able to operate.  If we do operate and are
successful, that means that he will have to use a colostomy bag for the
rest of his life.  Of course, in his weakened state he may very well not
have the strength to survive an operation.  And even so, we may not be able
to remove all the cancerous tissue."

"I'll have to talk to Mom.

"Before you arrived, doctor, I did get to tell him that I was here.  He
just said he had no son.  So I assume he is no condition to make any
decision for himself.  I can't believe, though, that he would opt for a
permanent colostomy."

"He has been given very strong pain relievers," the doctor says.  "If he
stabilizes, we may be able to reduce the dosage, but I wouldn't count on
it.  I'm afraid what we do must be left up to you and your mother."

Sam didn't immediately respond to Dr. Witherspoon's revelation, but he did
ask to be kept informed of the prognosis.

"You might check with admissions before you go," the doctor said.  "You'll
want to leave your number, and they may need some information they weren't
able to get when your father was brought in."

"I'll do that," Sam said.

"By the way," the doctor continued, "you aren't the artist, Sam Caldwell,
are you?"

"You're the second person in a week that's even known there is an artist
named Sam Caldwell," Sam grinned.  "But yes I am."

"My wife is a children's librarian and has shown me your Caldecott Award
books.  They're quite something."

"Thanks for the complement," Sam says.

Sam does check with the office, assures them that his father is insured and
establishes himself as the responsible party, then heads to the house where
he grew up.

He tells his mother that his father is near death, and asks the same
question the doctor had asked.  Hadn't he complained of pain in his gut?
Didn't he know he had insurance, could go to the doctor?

"Your papa never believed he could be sick," she answers.  "It's always
been `Just hang in there.'  That was his thing.  And yes, I told him you
had given us medical insurance.  But he said he wasn't taking anything from
`his faggot son.'  He's worked and made money, but I think if he knew you
were paying for a lot of our food and stuff, he'd have starved first.

"Oh, Sammy, I'm so sorry.  He just hasn't understood.  I've tried to make
him understand."

They tearfully embrace.

Sam tries to make her understand what Dr. Witherspoon has explained.  When
she realizes what a colostomy involves, she says that she doesn't think
he'd ever be able to deal with that.

After lunch they both go to the hospital.  No improvement.  The patient
doesn't recognize either of them.

Sam does love his mother dearly.  But they are like living in two different
galaxies.  Other than his father's illness, there is nothing in common they
can talk about.  He offers to take her out to dinner.  She prefers to cook
something at home.

After dinner Sam tells her he wants to take a walk.  He needs to get away.
He has no destination in mind, but he finds himself at the bar at Dunbar's.
It's still full of off-duty enlisted men.  A few hardhats.  He tries to
strike up a conversation with a guy on a nearby stool without success.
After a couple of beers, he leaves.

He automatically strolls around the block.  Old habits die hard.  He
encounters a kid leaning against a lamp post.  Could have been him fifteen
years ago.  This boy's not a fairy type, though.  More like a street tough,
lean and hard.  About five-ten, rumpled hair, open shirt with ripped out
sleeves.  Hard to make out anything else.

"Lonesome?" the boy asks.  "Whatcha into?"

"Goddam!" Sam laughs.  "You remind me of me, when I was your age.  Right
here on this same fucking block."

"You used to hustle?"

"Still do....sometimes.  Up in Atlanta.  But I got started right here with
horny army guys.

"How old are you, anyway?"

"Just eighteen.  For real.

"You wanna get sucked?  Been a slow night.  I give good head.  Half
off. Ten bucks?"

"Man, I aint never paid in my whole life.  But, shit, why the fuck not?"
Sam couldn't stop laughing.

They step into an alcove that Sam is all too familiar with.  Some things
don't change.  He drops his jeans.  The kid gets on his knees, massages Sam
to a full hard-on--that isn't hard to do--and gives one the best blow jobs
Sam has ever had.

"Man, you're good," Sam says.

"I told ya," the kid answers.

"You like to get fucked?"

"Not my thing, but if the price is right...."

"I was pretty much the same way," Sam responds.

They talk.  Sam learns that David Williams hustles to help buy groceries
for his mom and kid brother.  On a good night he might make fifty, maybe
seventy-five dollars.  His dad had walked away when he was twelve.  His
mother suspects what he's doing, but isn't rocking the boat.

"I'm going to be in town a few more days," Sam says.  "Any way I can get in
touch with you?"

David gives him a phone number and says to ask for him and say "it's Roger
calling."

"I don't pay for giving head," Sam jokes.  "But I'll blow you, if you
want."

He wants.

Sam walks slowly back home.  The house needs repair, but it's still home.
His mother is already in bed.  He's stripped and is brushing his teeth,
when his cell phone rings.

"Mr. Caldwell," the voice says, "This is the hospital.  I'm sorry to tell
you that your father just passed."

Sam doesn't rejoice, but he is glad his mother won't be faced with all the
problems she would have had to deal with had his dad lived.  Sam goes to
bed with a clear conscience.

When he tells his mother the next morning, he realizes how much she had
loved the man who hated him so passionately.  "He was a good man at heart,"
she cries.

The funeral is attended by scarcely twenty-five mourners.  "He wasn't well
liked, you know," Sam's mother says.

Sam urges his mother to move to Atlanta.

"You know I wouldn't be welcome living with you," she says.  "I know you'd
like to put me up in some fancy place where I wouldn't be comfortable.  I
don't have a lot of friends, but the friends I have are here.  Let me be."



Before Sam leaves Columbus, he does call David.  He says "Roger's calling."
David comes on the line.

"So shouldn't you be in school?" Sam asks.

"I told you I was eighteen," David responds.  "I finished last Spring."

"Pick a place to meet," Sam says.  "I'd like to talk to you.  No business."

David chooses a mall, but once they've met, Sam guides him to place where
they can have a leisurely lunch and where David will not feel out of place.

In the daylight David isn't an Adonis, but could become one.  He has a nice
build and a handsome face.  What he needs is a graceful persona.

"Like I told you the other night, I started off just like you are.  I'll
admit I was a fucking limp-wristed fairy, which you're not, thank god.  But
you won't be eighteen forever.  I was fortunate to have some good buddies
that helped me become what I am now.

"If I hadn't had the luck I had, I'd be dead now or homeless or in jail.
And I don't want to see you fucked up like I coulda been."

"Shit, man, what else can I do?  My grades in school were piss poor.  My
mom can't support us.  My kid brother's only thirteen.  I can't get a
decent job.  I guess I could start selling drugs, but I think that's worse
than selling my dick."

"My old man just died," Sam tells him.  "My mom's all broken up.  I've
offered to move her to Atlanta, but I can understand why she wants to stay
here in Columbus.

"Here's my proposition.  You can keep hustling, but I also want you to look
after my mom.  That means checking on her every day, going shopping with
her, keeping me informed about her condition and about any repairs that
need to be made to her house.  You'll also take care of mowing the lawn,
taking out the garbage.  That sort of thing.

"I'll pay you minimum wage, like you're working forty hours a week.  Do a
good job for six months and you can start applying for real jobs and I'll
give you good recommendations.  You ought to be able get a good paying
position doing something you'd really like to do."

"You'd do that for me?" David asks.

Over the next hour they work out the details of their arrangement, they go
by a Walmart and get David some decent shirts and new jeans, then go to
meet Sam's mother.

Mrs. Caldwell protests that she doesn't need the help, but Sam insists.  He
tells her that David will keep him informed about her well-being, and he
tells David that his mom will keep him informed about how well he's doing
his job.

"How well do you know this boy?" his mother asks.  "He could steal me
blind."

"I know him well enough to trust him.  And if he does steal your tv, I'll
buy you a new one."

He also wants to meet David's mom, but on the way to their apartment, David
reaches for Sam's crotch and says he'd like to thank Sam in the way he can
do it best.  Sam finds a secluded spot, and they repeat their activities of
their earlier meeting.  This time with more passion.