Date: Sun, 24 Jun 2007 09:07:32 -0700 (PDT)
From: crispin emrys <crispinemrys@yahoo.com>
Subject: Crispin-and-Zephyr/Part-1-Crispin/Chapter2-revised

This series of fictional stories are the product of my imagination.
However, nothing happens in a vacuum.  Like most fiction, it is based on
real people I have met, places and events I have seen.

The Prologue and Chapters 1-13 appeared on Nifty this winter.  They have
been extensively revised (especially Prologue and Chapter 13) and Chapter
13 has been completed.  I will post two per week then continue with
Chapter 14.

It may be against the law to read where you are because of its content or
your age.  Or you may feel uncomfortable reading it because of the belief
systems you have accepted.  Follow the dictates of your heart.  If you do
read this series, I hope you enjoy it.

When this five part story is completed, it will have told the tale of one
boy and one man and how their intimate relationship and love for each
other led to the creation of a modern day legion of boy knights. These
knights errant became young champions of human and social rights and
defenders of the weak and the downtrodden.  These Boy Knights of the
Green Republic reveal the true meaning, purpose and power of boyhood.

You may be aware of the etymology of the word knight, that it is derived
from the Old English cniht, meaning page boy, or servant, or simply boy.
Knighthood, as in the Old English cnihthad, had the meaning of
adolescence, that most intriguing period between childhood and manhood.
In this sense every boy is a knight, and in my estimation a potential
knight errant.

Copyright 2007  Crispin Emrys.  All Rights Reserved.

This series may be displayed on any website so long as no money is
charged for access and attribution is retained.  Just ask permission
first.  Thanks.

This project is dedicated
    to Guy Davenport, a gentle genius and unsurpassed writer of short
stories who died in 2005,
    to every Crispin and Zephyr in this or any other world,
    and to you the reader that you may be encouraged by it.

I am Crispin Emrys at crispinemrys@yahoo.com.   Feel free to contact me.
I always enjoy hearing from my readers.


Crispin and Zephyr
Part 1 - Crispin
Chapter 2 - Revised

February 1999
San Francisco

     Cris hit the play button and listened intently to Aleksey's
message.

     "Hey, Cris, its Alex," began the treble voice.  "We haven't heard
from you in a while and mom and I were wondering how things are going
with you.  We're pretty much settled in here now.  The weather is still
really cold with lots of snow everywhere.  Could you come for a visit?
School is OK.  Actually, I really like it.  It's challenging, but I am
keeping up without any trouble.  I've made some friends, too.  Some of
the kids are pretty cool, and I know you will like them.

     "Mom is doing really good, and wanted me to tell you that.  She's
working out of the house and takes trips to Boston or New York when she
has a major deal in the works.  I have gone to New York a couple of time
with her.  It's neat to go back and visit.  I'm beginning to like
Vermont.  I might even like it more than New York.  I guess I'm pretty
glad we moved here.  I mean we are in the boonies but it's really
beautiful.  Mom likes it here cause it reminds her of home in Mother
Russia, except there are more mountains here than around St. Petersburg
she says.  Life here in the country is so different from No Cal, and some
of the people talk with weird accents, but they say the same thing about
me sometimes.  I guess I miss California, especially the ocean, but most
of all I really miss you.  A lot!  No day goes by that I don't think
about you and wonder when I will get to see you again.

     "Anyway, mom sends you her love and I send you lots of kisses and my
love, too, of course.  Please write, or call, or email.  Or better yet,
please, please come for a visit.  We have lots and lots of room.  I want
to show you all around and have you meet my friends.  I really need to
hear from you and know that you're OK.  Well, I guess that's all for
now.  Miss you lots.  Hugs and kisses.  Bye."

     Alyosha.  Russians have given names  as well as diminutives, which
are just sobriquets expressing different levels of familiarity.  While
Aleksey's given name was not Alexander, although it too derived from the
Greek.  However, to his family, closest friends and to Cris, Aleksy is
Alyosha, a  familiar name expressing greater intimacy.  But since he had
lived in the United States for most of his life he had acquired the
Americanized variant of his name, Alex.  Even his mom now called him that
in public, unless she was especially irritated with him.

     Cris sat there for some time with the phone still cradled in his
hand after listening to the digital voice on the answering machine ask
him what it should do next.  It must have been several minutes before he
put it down.  At the same time he exhaled a very deep sigh through his
rounded lips.  Alyosha.  Annie.  Misha.  How he missed each one of them.
How strange that Alex would call so close on the heels of his last
session with Robbie.  Cris, a strong believer in synchronicity, that
everything happens for a purpose and is interconnected with everything
else, knew without any doubt that something was up.  Most definitely some
significant change was in the offing.  But what exactly?

     Sitting at his desk thinking about the phone call, Cris's mind began
to pull up of images of Aleksey, now a well built and handsome 13 year
old, and of course, Mishka, his beautiful shaggy blond haired, green eyed
Russian angel, without any question the greatest love of his life.
Misha's given name was Mikhail, Michael to some, but to almost everyone
he was always Misha.  And to his very closest friends and family and to
Crispin, Mishka.

     In his mind's eye Cris pictured Alex at the beach a few weeks before
he and Annie left for New York in the late summer almost two years ago,
Aleksey and Misha in Golden Gate Park just hanging out like they always
used to do on nice spring weekends, Misha and Alyosha camping with Cris
in the Sierra's, Mishka on his first overnighter alone with Cris, Mishka
and Cris on their trip to New York, Alex and Mishka at Chipper's cabin,
Mishka as he boarded the bus that was to take him and the other boys to
the wilderness camp in Montana.  He had the actual photograph of that
sitting on his desk.  He reached over and picked it up.
It was the last time he ever saw his young lover alive.  Misha was part
of a white water rafting group when a young camper, a boy just 11, was
thrown into the roiling water.  Misha unhesitatingly jumped in to help
and reached the other boy and began to pull him to the shore.  However,
just as they seemed to be out of danger they both were caught in a
whirlpool and drowned.

     He still had that mental picture of Misha waving to him out the huge
bus window, smiling as always.  It was the last time Cris ever saw him
alive.  By now tears began to running down his cheeks as these and more
pictures flashed like a slide show through his mind.  Cris leaned back in
his chair, set the picture on his desk and moved his hands up to cover
his eyes.  He could not believe how much he still missed Misha, or how
much he still loved him.  It had been nearly three years, but it felt
just like it was yesterday.  Cris wondered if he would ever get over this
loss, one that time was supposed to heal. Wasn't that what he had just
explained to Robbie?

     And then there was Robbie.  Cris now realized that he also loved
this boy with a intense, almost inexpressible affection.  But it was just
not in the same way as he had Mishka.  No one ever would, no one ever
could take his place in Cris's heart.  Robbie knew something about his
relationship with Mishka because Cris had shared some things in passing,
usually as illustrations during his counseling sessions that would help
to emphasize what he was trying to convey to Robbie.  And then there was
the clear prominence of Misha among the many pictures and drawings of of
boys evident throughout the house.  He had just not shared with Robbie
the details.  It just never came up.  And Robbie was so gentle and
sensitive that he did not probe.  But while he had never said anything
outright, Cris suspected that Robbie knew that he and Misha had been as
close as any two people could ever be.

     And although Robbie had never said so, the hints were pretty clear
that he, too, wanted to have this same kind of physical and emotional
relationship with Cris.  The untimely deaths of someone they each had
loved so deeply had brought them together in a bond of suffering and loss
that was among the strongest that could be forged by the human soul.  It
was the basis of a rich and affirming relationship that went beyond mere
friendship, a soul tie that was more akin to brotherhood.  Cris thought
the example of the Theban Sacred Band, though without the sexual aspect,
would be a fitting analogy.  But his relationship with Robbie should not,
could not, become more than it was at this point in time, not now at
least.  No, Cris was resolute that it would not go beyond this.  He just
couldn't do it again.  The pain of loving and losing someone was just too
great.  Anyway, a romantic relationship was certainly not what Robbie
needed at this time in his life.

     It was already dark outside when Cris raised his head from his hands
and once again became aware of his surroundings.  He sighed deeply.  He
would definitely have to do something this weekend to get his mind off
Mishka and Robbie and Tanner and all of this very intense real life
drama.  Still, he had to call Alyosha.  Tomorrow, when he could carry on
a conversation without losing control.  But for now he would call Chipper
and make some plans.  A weekend driving up the coast and just hanging out
by the steady and dependable Pacific would be most restorative.  It was
just what any reputable therapist would suggest.