Date: Tue, 5 Sep 2006 07:30:00 -0700 (PDT)
From: Joseph Smith <gaymormonwriter@yahoo.com>
Subject: Love and Death in Venice  adult/youth   Chapter 10

Love and Death in Venice
Chapter 10

(Author's notes: Copyright 2006.)

Again, Brady's words echoed in my brain. By writing this story, I would be
saving myself, but from what? I asked myself.

I once asked him if what I felt for Chase was an obsession. He said 'yes'.

Why didn't I see it that way? Why didn't I see all of it, the whole
picture? Was I being in denial or just facing a gross misrepresentation of
reality?

If I ignored my feelings, then there was no point in writing the story in
the first place. I could put all ten chapters in a folder or delete them
into the recycle bin and forget or deny all I wanted.

But, sadly, the truth remained a constant factor.

Truths about whom and what I am have haunted me all my life.  I never could
run away from those truths; they've lingered around me like a hazy smoke.

If I hated my 'truths', then I hated my very existence. I think what I
really hated more than anything else was the 'facing of the truths'.

Writing this story was 'facing the truths' about me, and Chase figured in
as a factor, an annoying reality that surfaced in my mind on a daily basis.

My mixed emotions about Chase ran the gamut of anger, sadness, rejection,
fear and even, hope.

Unfortunately, anger, sadness, rejection, and fear far outweighed 'hope'
bringing into question hope's very ability to survive.

It would have been so much easier, as the famous cliche says, to cut him
from my heart. But, in reality, that too would have been painful.

I didn't think Chase could imagine that I could have just turned off my
feelings for him like a switch turns off a light bulb. Then I wondered how
he could turn our relationship off like a major circuit breaker after he
told me he loved me, cared about me and had feelings for me.

Thoughts of Chase always resurface whenever I see a car with Texas license
plates or a Chevy Suburban, the truck he used for his lawn care business.

Being a writer was probably the reason that I thought of scenarios in which
Chase would come to Florida to make amends. I pondered such fantasies of
him doing so. How would I react? What would I say? What would he say? In
the end, I realized that I was just fooling myself.

It wasn't Chase that was torturing me, it was my memories and my love for
him that kept me wondering and hoping that somehow, someway, he might
change his mind.

If there was such a thing as an epiphany for him, where was mine? Where
would I find the peace and closure it would take to put my heart to rest
over Chase?

My heart poured out my feelings about my life in the stories I had already
written. In those chapters, and in those words, I feared that I had poured
out all that was left in my heart. That scared me into believing that I
would have nothing left to write again.

Self-doubt is such a curse and I really needed to talk to Stephan. I needed
to know if I should continue writing, if it really was any good.

Stephan finally sent me an email after reading only the first two chapters.

"Your narrative is worlds beyond the last story," he wrote. He had always
told me that my written dialogue was so much better than my narrative.

"All of sudden, you seem to have found your voice."

He called it a strong story and compared it to the other, equally strong
autobiographical stories on Nifty by guys we both seemed to admire, like
Mark and Adam, or even Nigel, whose stories have created strong followings
in Yahoo Groups.

I never wanted to write an autobiography.

Damn it.

Why wouldn't anyone tell me that the story was crap so I could throw it
away and not write anymore of it?

Simply forget about the whole idea of writing for my own closure, peace of
mind and heart.

This was turning into a story of an author's frustration with himself,
reluctantly writing a story about something so painful and unyielding that
he just wanted to walk away from it.

"You pissed me off," Stephan said, on the phone.

"How?"

"At the beginning of Chapter Two, you didn't hug Chase."

"Oh, there, when he was at my apartment the first time when we talked?"

"Yes."

"I was afraid to. I wasn't sure of how I would react with him if I
did. Besides, I was still learning about the gay lifestyle and didn't even
know that a hug is like a handshake."

"I see."

In my mind, I knew that if I had hugged him, the moment would've ended with
the hug, or so I believed.

"I was impressed with your sentence structure. You got your dependent and
independent clauses in the correct order."

"Really?" I knew he had told me before about those clauses, but wasn't sure
I understood.

He read a couple of paragraphs to emphasize his point.

"I wasn't really conscious of what I was doing, I guess. I was just
writing."

I think I got it this time from his examples of my writing.

We talked about the story and how I should continue writing. I made him
promise to read the rest of the chapters as a reader, first, rather than as
an editor. I wanted to make sure it kept his interest.

That night, when I went to bed, I turned on the same CD that I had listened
to for the last eight years.

It was when I was in Orlando at the megaplex that two of my assistants,
both straight, introduced me to the British group Erasure. I immediately
fell in love with the voice of Andy Bell. I bought every album that Erasure
had ever released. "Cowboy" was my favorite at the time. But it was their
self-titled album that I found so soothing and mellow that I always played
it when I went to bed.

I wore out my first copy, never thinking you could that with a CD, but you
can. I estimated that I played that CD over 2500 times. I bought a new one,
ripped it and burned a copy. The copy played and the original stayed with
the other Erasure albums.

Lying in bed, listening to Andy's voice, my mind wondered about what I was
going to do. By the time "Rock Me Gently" played, one of my favorite
Erasure songs, I was asleep.

I had always wanted to share my love of Erasure with Chase. Like so many
things I wanted to share with him, that never happened.

"So you think the story will never end?" I asked Brady the next night on
the phone.

"I didn't say that."

"You implied it."

"All I'm saying is that you have to let it end. By hanging on to Chase, it
never will."

"But Brady, I need to find an ending, I just can't end it with my sending
the ring back."

"Why not?"

"That wasn't the ending, at least not for me."

"Dan, it won't really end for you."

"I won't let him out my heart."

"Exactly. Just leave him there and go on with your life. Do you really need
him?"

"There's that freakin' word again," I said.

Brady laughed and said, "Are you going to become self-conscious over that
word?"

"It's the damn word that started this business."

"You are 'needy' and you need to let yourself off the hook for
that. Everyone is needy in some form or another. Even Chase is needy, but
his needs are different, or seem to be different than yours or anyone
else's."

"You know, it took five and half years to get the first closure after he
walked out of my life.  How long will it take for this one?"

"Are you planning on waiting again?"

"I don't know," I said, exasperated.

"Yeah, you do."

"I'm sure you're going to tell me, anyway."

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because closure is up to you. It all depends on whether you wait on Chase
to pop back up into your life to explain himself or you can just accept the
closure when you sent the ring back."

I thought about that one.

"And if I wait on Chase?"

"You may wait longer than you did the first time."

I knew the answer already, but I let him say it anyway.

Brady has always seemed to be right about most everything we chat about. He
kept advising me all along when I began to loose Chase. I didn't
listen. Even now, I don't think he could have changed my mind about
anything.

"Dan, it doesn't matter if you finish the story or not. It doesn't matter
if you publish the story. It's your story, your love story about
Chase. It's as personal as you wanted to make it with all the pain you
experienced loving him."

I didn't say anything, but I could hear Brady breathing into the phone.

"Dan, let him go. Finish the story, stop fighting it, end it, and let him
go."

After I ended the conversation with Brady, I began to realize that I could
actually end the story and move on.

Chase had given me the inspiration to begin writing. That may well have
been his greatest gift to me. I could run with that and never look back. I
could close the final chapter and say 'goodbye'.

'Of all the things I have been blessed with in my life,' I thought, 'a
wife, a son, a mother, a grandmother, close friends, the one thing that
escaped me for most of my life was writing, and because of Chase, it had
become another blessing.'

In the last scene of "Death in Venice", Dirk Bogarde's character watched
the elusive figure of the young teen boy as he waded out into the
ocean. With the sun's rays glistening through the waves like an aureole,
the figure of the boy appeared angelic. It was the final vision the man saw
as his body died. The 'signals' between the two became forever lost and
meaningless, as were the ones from Chase, I'd come to realize.

I know now from putting this story out there, that in my life, wanting
Chase's love so much, reaching for it, touching it, loving it, losing it,
mourning it I began to really wonder if I had truly been in love with him.

No one ever hurt me like he did. I know that by letting go, he can't hurt
me anymore.

Having known Chase I've been blessed in some ways.

Was I truly "in love" with him? I will never know for sure, not having seen
or been around him for confirmation. I will always wonder, though, what
might have been...but was never meant to be.

Chase had been an illumination in my life.

                                               ******************

I had believed I could have ended this story there, with the idea of the
bright light that Chase created in my life. But having written it a month
ago, I know now, the words did not provide the sense of balance I was
looking for to end this story or even my craving for Chase.

I may have been illuminated at one time in my life with Chase, but the
reality is that that 'bright light' in my life known as 'Chase' had dimmed
and the warmth had faded into an abyss in my heart.

Words, I thought, are just words. They work in combination with each other
to provide a thought, a revelation, and a moment in time for reflection.

And as I reread the words of this story during the editing process, I found
myself reconsidering the combination of words that laid out my sense of
regret and loss.

I kept remembering Tom Hanks in "Forrest Gump" telling Jenny that he knew
"what love was". I believed with all my heart that I knew "what love
was". I found within my own words that love places no limits on who or how
much a person loves. Intense or casual or unrequited, love exists to bring
light into our lives. That's the true illumination.

With Chase, the love I had for him was very real, but like a lighted candle
as it burns itself out, the illumination flickered, faded and finally
extinguished itself into a cinder of memory.

People come into your lives; some stay, some go, and some only provide a
brief encounter. Impressions remain for those that touch your inner
being. So many people have come into my life, loved me, and left me, yet
linger in my mind.

Karen was the brightest of all the lights in my life. My son is a constant
reminder of her, but as an individual he shines for me on his own.

Since engaging myself as a gay man, I have met many men along the way. Yes,
even those I have regretted. Still though, not having found the one to
spend my life with, I continue to search and enjoy the company of men on
the way.

I found in a man recently, a definitive serenity. He and I had chatted
casually on line after having met on a website for older/younger guys, the
very site that Chase had told me about. By coincidence, he sent me a
message that he would be in Florida.

I had always figured that Ethan was just another guy in another state that
would chat with me for a little while, and then, when there was nothing
left to say, he would just disappear. Believing that had occurred, it had
only been a few weeks since I deleted him from my contact list. It was such
a nice surprise when he wrote me.

I invited him to my place for his last night in Florida. Without hesitation
he accepted. I was both excited and nervous for he was a handsome young man
or so I thought from his pictures on the website.

My distraction for that night was the fact that I had given notice to
Stanley that I was leaving the theatre to work for a New England company
and would be moving to New Hampshire.

With mixed emotions, I let my staff know I was leaving. They weren't happy
with that fact. I assured them that I had found what I had been waiting for
and that the money and benefits were ideal.

Later that evening when Ethan arrived, I was totally taken by him. I fell
into his eyes, something I had only done before with Karen. They were
bright blue and inviting. His smile assured me that any apprehension I had
was washed away for the evening.  Putting down his suitcase, he turned and
kissed me. I melted.

I pulled him into me and held on, as our lips were tender and loving,
nothing like you would expect with a stranger.

Backing away, I told him that he looked like an actor from the movie
"Latter Days". He had seen it. I thought Ethan looked just like Steve
Sandvoss would look in about 13 or 14 years.  Amazing.

We felt each other's hardness and I knew that it was all going to be just
fine. Upstairs, in the bedroom we got naked, though I left on my T-shirt.

Ethan knew about my belly and assured me he was okay with it. I watched his
beautiful eyes when I took the shirt off. I feared the look he would
have. He brought his eyes up to mine and kissed me.

His nudity took my breath away. Five eight, about 150 pounds and
wonderfully hairy, I found I couldn't keep my hands off of him.

During the next two hours we touched and talked. I told him of the stories
I had written, even this one about Chase and me.

As we enjoyed the closeness of the other, his openness was refreshing.
When we got down to lovemaking, he swept me away with his mouth on mine,
taking me, finding the areas to touch with his tongue that sent pleasure to
my whole body.

Being inside him was an epiphany all of its own. Sliding within this man
was intense pleasure, not just from my cock being encased by his rectum,
but his whole being riding me with incredible comfort. His eyes still drew
me in as I felt myself lost inside him. As my hands stroked his very hard
cock or my fingers ran through his hairy chest or even lightly grazed his
legs, I felt such a peace of mind and body. I pushed myself into him,
striking his prostate over and over again.

We watched each other as he pushed back down me every time I pushed up into
him. We had found a pace that provided the best stimulation for
ourselves. I began to sense my orgasm was near; as the early sensation
began to build, I moaned and grabbed his hands, squeezing them as I erupted
inside him.

The orgasm itself seemed to recede slowly, but my cock remained hard. Still
sitting atop me, he leaned down and kissed me with passion and caring. He
leaned back up and I flexed myself as I was oozing out the last of my
orgasm. Each time I did, he responded, so I kept it up for a while. It felt
good to be inside him.

Reluctantly, I felt him slide off and scoot up to me. I took him in my
mouth, enjoying the flavor, with a desire to make him feel as good as he
made me feel. We changed positions so I could get at him better. With his
legs hanging off the bed and me, on my knees between them, I made love to
his cock. I found that he loved it when I would stroke the underside with
my tongue while his entire cock was in my mouth.

While I was sucking on him, I had a realization and stopped. Since we had
already been comfortable talking to each other, I told him about it while
my hand stroked his cock.

"I just had a thought you might find interesting," I said.

Ethan's eyes looked into mine and remained locked on me without a change of
expression.

"What was that?" he asked.

"My editor, Stephen, gave me heck concerning the last story because at the
end the sex between the main two characters seemed uninspired and lacking
in any real excitement. I just figured out why?"

Ethan looked me as I went down on him again, kissing and sucking his
beautiful cock.

"When I wrote the first part of the story," I said, coming off of him
again, "the sex scenes were written at the end of November, right after my
last sexual encounter. I wrote the last half two months later, apparently
less inspired without the inspiration of sex."

Ethan smiled at me and said, "Are you going to write about me?"

I kissed the head of his cock and said, "Yeah, I could in the new story I'm
writing."

Then with complete desire, I took his cock and made love to it, smoothly,
swiftly, as I smothered it with my wet lips and tongue.

"I'm cumming," he said.

I pulled off and stroked him fast to bring him off and he came with so much
force he shot over his left shoulder onto my comforter. After several
aerial shots, he fell into the afterglow of his body's submission to
pleasure while I gently and slowly ran my fingers over his cock. Then I
moved my hands over his chest and belly, rubbing cum throughout his chest
hair.

"Are you inspired now?" he asked, with a smile.

I smiled back at him and said, "Oh yeah, I think so."

After we showered together, we stood naked in the hallway just talking
about life: his and mine. I asked about his boyfriend, someone I felt was
incredibly lucky and wondered why they had an open relationship. I never
thought they worked, but here listening to Ethan, theirs seemed to work
just fine. His boyfriend was 72 years old. I could see the love Ethan had
for him in his eyes as he spoke about him. He continued to amaze me as he
told me that all of his close friends were men over fifty and many of them
with health problems, which was why mine didn't bother him.

Finally, we went to bed since he had to leave early. I cuddled up to him
and just enjoyed the closeness, something I so missed in my life.

After I turned off the light and heard his breathing become restful, I
dreaded the morning knowing he was going to leave.

When the alarm went off, we both woke up. I watched his beautiful nude body
ascend from my bed. I sat up on the bed with my feet on the floor watching
him get ready. Heading towards the bathroom, he reached out to me and I
wrapped my arms around him. I figured he knew how I was feeling.

We got dressed and then he asked if he could use my phone. He called a
close friend who had been having small strokes lately. My heart went out to
him as I could hear the man talk to Ethan. Here was a confirming moment of
what Ethan was all about.

At the front door, he turned to me, kissed me and put his arms around
me. Feeling like I had a new friend, I didn't want to let go but I knew I
had to and didn't make the hug linger very long.

We said our 'goodbyes' and agreed to stay in contact and maybe get together
on my way north when I moved. I watched as he walked to his car. I turned
and went inside, went upstairs and watched his car leave through the second
bedroom window.

I went back to bed to get some more sleep, surprised that I didn't feel sad
he was gone. I was glad that he had been here and that I had 'hope' after
all, and that 'hope' might just be victorious in the long run.

All day I thought of Ethan. I found myself attracted to a personality that
I found refreshingly different from that of most men I have met. I never
sensed any falseness to him, but rather a sincere compassion for those he
met, knew and cared about.

Can I compare Ethan to Chase? Yes, I can. I may have known Ethan for only a
few hours but the things I saw and the things he told me about himself rang
true in my mind.

Chase, I believe now has never rung true in my heart.

Chase was not the person I thought he was.

After that night, I knew there were men out there like Ethan. I just had to
look a little harder and direct my standards more towards his.

Brady had encouraged me to watch the movie "Rent", which I had avoided for
months. Now, on video, I listened to this suggestion and watched it. There
were many messages about relationships and the loved ones you loose in
life.  The words that spoke loudest and clearest to me were "forget
regrets".

I realized with those words that my 'regrets' over Chase were few, that I
could forget my regrets about him.

And, despite his flaws, I don't need to forget him.

My hope for Chase is that someday he can find peace within himself, some
how, some way before his conflictions consume him.

Writing this story has brought about the sense of closure for me that Brady
said I so badly needed.

With my own words, I opened my eyes and saw Chase for how he really was and
now know for a certainty that my life is better now without him.

I'm at peace, without regrets and I can move away from Venice, away from
Florida, to a new place and a new life and find a man who truly wants to
share my life.

And just maybe, I will get the signals right this time.


The end of Chapter 10


                          The end of "Love And Death In Venice"