Date: Mon, 24 Sep 2007 10:29:09 -0700 (PDT)
From: T. Chase McPhee <survivalgame@yahoo.com>
Subject: Natures Trail 29

The story below is a work of fiction, set in the
format of reality. Any resemblances to real people,
alive or in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in
nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon
persons, in towns, cities, countries, nor governmental
areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene
involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then
you should not read this story. Additionally, if you
are under 18 years of age, in most state and
countries, you are not allowed to read this story, by
law. Check with your local laws regarding such. %
Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction.
In real life, use protection.

%

"Nature's Trail" 29
wriTten by T. Chase McPhee

%

"Hi Denis!"

"Hey Jose. How's it going?"

"Good and yourself?"

"It was kind of boring around here after this
morning."

"What happened this morning?" Jose inquires.

"Tests. That kind of stuff," Denis replied, not
wanting to bring up Darryl's visit.

"I saw your brother. He's a cool guy."

"You saw Mark?"

"Sure. Haven't you?"

"No. I was under the impression he wasn't taking
visitors, except my dads," Denis replies.

Seeing Denis losing his happy edge, Jose says, "Um,
I'm not sure about it. You could be right. I only got
to see him because I brought him his lunch."

"Lunch? It's three-thirty in the afternoon!"

"Right. He was sleeping at lunch time, so they allowed
him to take it late. I had a chance to chat with him."

As the seventeen year old chatted Denis up, he set his
bookbag on the table, taking out some books.

"What's all this?"

"I told you I had Mr. Hanson for math too, right?"

"Yeah, so?"

"He said to stop after school and he would have an
extra math book and calculator to lend you. And..."
Jose paused to extract some yellow paper from his bag,
"here's the assignments you missed, plus two weeks
advanced and..."

Sitting up in bed, Denis falls backwards, his head
pressing into the pillow, arms crossing his face,
blotting out the world, complaining, "I'll never catch
up... and then the exam... I'm never gonna make
it...I'll fail...and then I won't graduate..."

Before Denis added to the domino effect, raving on and
on, Jose took hold of each wrist, with cause to
alleviate Denis from the prison of his thoughts. "I'm
here to help you, Denis. I'm not going to let you
fail. Mark is in the same predicament. I'm going to
help him too. If Mark can make the grade, so can you."

"But you're a junior. How can you understand twelfth
grade math, Jose?"

"You know I was sitting in the library at WRCC one
morning last week. I got to be friends with one of the
college guys, David."

Boldly, Denis asks, "The guy you kissed in the parking
lot?"

"I thought that was you standing at the window. It
doesn't matter. I'm out to anyone," Jose admits to
Denis.

"So was that David? You're boyfriends?"

"It was David, but we're not boyfriends. Friends. We
have similar interests and get along. He saves me a
couple of dollars by bringing me and picking me up at
the hospital. He doesn't mind doing it."

"Sorry."

"Not a problem, Denis."

"Do you think something could develop between you
two?"

"I'm seventeen. David is twenty."

"Doesn't matter. I'm eighteen and Da... never mind."

Jose looked at Denis with question. It's one of the
special secrets Denis was keeping from Dr. Roberts,
from his dads, from the rest of the world. Yet,
whenever he chatted with Jose, he felt a special sense
of camaraderie and trust. So he blurted out, "Darryl
is twenty-four."

"Darryl?"

"Tudyk."

"The police officer?"

"Yeah. Him and I... well..."

"You like each other?" Jose asks.

"He's a nice guy," Denis put it, without going into
detail.

"I'm happy for him."

"You say that like you know him, Jose."

Breaking out in a smile, Jose informs Denis, "He's my
big brother."

"Big brother? But you don't even look alike!"

"Right. He's my unofficial big brother. You see, at my
mom's funeral, Darryl was there to help control
traffic. It wasn't a big deal. She was buried and my
dad had to rush off to work. I told you he's always
working, right?"

"Yup," Denis said affirmatively.

"I told my dad I would find my own way home. After
everyone left, I sat on the hill and watched them
shovel the dirt on her coffin. Darryl came over and
sat there with me. He was sitting there until the
cemetary workers finished their job and left. It
started to get hot, as the sun blazed overhead, so he
asked me if I wanted to get something to drink. We got
up and he let me ride in his patrol car with him. We
wound up at Birdy's Cafe. Not only did he buy me a
drink, but he ordered me up a burger and fries."

"Nice of him," Denis said, taking in the kind
perspective, of the man he kissed this morning.

"It wasn't the last I saw of him. He stopped by the
house every night to make sure I was okay, for a few
weeks. Then, when I started working in the hospital, I
saw him a few times when he had business here. He's
always asking me how I'm doing. A couple of times, on
a Saturday he would ask me to play some basketball,
always treating me to lunch. Once David came with me
to play basketball. In private,  Darryl said we made a
nice couple."

"But you're not serious about each other, right?"

"We're leaving it at friends. If you're wondering...
well I don't tell anybody this... except my `big
brother', but after knowing David for a couple of
months we went up to his dorm."

Denis sat up for this part of Jose's recollections!

"If you're wondering if we went all the way, we
didn't. We did kiss. He put his hands up under my
shirt and stripped it off. I unbuttoned his. We kissed
and hugged. He suggested going farther by unbuckling
my belt, but I stopped him. I told him he shouldn't be
having sex with a seventeen year old."

"What did he do?"

"He said, `okay' and thanked me for watching out for
him, buckling up my pants for me. Then that was it.
Now he kisses me when he drops me off and picks me
up."

"And you don't do anything together, like play
basketball anymore?"

"He's been busy with college and all. He's got a great
summer job lined up."

"Doing what?"

Denis waited, seeing Jose's bright attitude drop forty
feet.

"Modeling."

"What's wrong with modeling? It pays good, right?"

"Yeah, he's going to be making big bucks, but... he
has to travel to New York City to do it. David's
finished for the semester so he's leaving this
weekend."

This time Denis was the sensitive one, reaching across
the lap table separating them, placing his hand on
Jose's, trying to comfort him with, "It's only for the
summer. He'll be back for the fall."

"Maybe not," Jose sulks. "If things work out, David is
going to see about transferring to a closer school."

"That sucks."

"Same thing Darryl said, when I told him... well, he
didn't say it sucked, but he said it was a rotten
thing to happen to me."

"It is," Denis said, truly feeling for Jose. "It is a
rotten thing to happen to such a nice guy!"

The two, exchanging smiles, lightened Jose's mood.

%

"Get any applicants?" Michael asks, returning to the
cafe.

"Halp!" Christian calls out, half-joking, arms thrown
in the air, for effect.

"Whatsamatter?" Michael asks, putting both hands on
Christian's shoulders, looking over him at the table,
asking, "What's all this?"

"As if you didn't know! I've got sixty-five applicants
here. What am I supposed to do?"

"Did you do like I told you?"

"Yes. After I did the interview, I marked a little dot
in the upper right corner of the application of strong
possibilities."

"So, pull all those out."

"Okay," the twenty-one year old says, rifling through
the pile, as Michael takes a seat next to him.

"How about a drink?" Michael asks.

"No. I'm okay," Christian shoots back with, very
businesslike pulling out an applicant's stats here and
there.

Michael returns, two cans of Dr. Pepper in each hand.

"Thanks," Christian accepts it.

"I thought you weren't thirsty?"

"Business before pleasure."

Michael smiled, liking the reply, confident he has
picked the right man to run `the works'.

"There," Christian says, his left hand pointing out
the specially marked applications.

"Good job," Michael congratulated.

Sitting there, the two scrutinized each of the
remaining eighteen applications.

Michael asks, "Hand me one of those applications, will
you?"

"Sure," Christian says, peeling a fresh one off the
top.

"Pen?"

"Applying for a position?" He jokes with Michael.

"I got a call from Steve Clark. He says one of his
kids wanted to come and apply, but right now he's in
the hospital."

Of course, Christian, knowing of the family, was all
over Michael, hounding him for answers to the `whys'.

"Yeah, they both wanted to apply, but Steve says
they're not sure when Mark is going to be back on his
feet. So, I'll just put Denis' name here," he writes
it over the `name', "and we'll put a little dot at the
upper right..."

"Isn't that being biased?"

"Yeah. Why?" Michael says, with a grin.

"Um, I'll just shuffle it in with the others,"
Christian says, lending himself to be incriminated as
well, as he picked up the reduced pile of nine
applicants.

"So you've got the hang of it?"

"Yeah, but I feel bad for the unchosen ones."

"Keep those on hand. You never know if somebody
doesn't work out or quits on us," Michael tells him.

"Wow! I guess hiring is the easy part. I don't know if
I could ever fire anyone," Christian replies, a
serious look painting his face.

Patting the twenty-one year old's shoulder, Michael
says, "Let's hope we never have the opportunity!"

So, going along with the job, Michael gives him the
cheerful duty of calling the applicants and awarding
them a position at Birdy's Supper Club.

%

"Hi Mark. Can I come in?"

Not lifting his head off the pillow, Mark says,
"What's up, Jose?"

"It took me a little more time than I thought, but I
just finished going over the math with your brother.
Are you feeling good enough for me to start with you?"

"I'm okay. I get a little dizzy sometimes when I sit
up."

"Probably the medication," Jose says, wheeling the
oblong table over the bed. "Going up!" he announces,
pushing a button which elevates to top portion of the
hospital bed. "This is one luxury Denis doesn't have.
He has to do it the old fashioned way, doing a sit up.

Right next to Mark, as his upper bod rises, his face
comes within distance of Jose's midsection. He admires
the way his tucked in shirt gets caught on his pecs,
but then hits no obstacles, as it shoots down under
the beltline.

"Do you workout?"

"Me?" The seventeen year old replies. "Nah. I'm
naturally skinny. What about you?"

"I never have. Maybe someday I will. I think I'd like
to get some definition."

"I think you're okay the way you are, Mark," Jose
compliments him, handing over a smile with it.

"Thanks."

Getting down to business, Jose whizzed through the
explanations. Going through the makeup work, a week's
worth, as he comments, "You're good at math, you know,
Mark?"

"That's what my teacher said, when I went to school in
New Jersey."

"I've never been there."

"You're not missing much, except for stuff like Six
Flags and the city."

"City?"

"New York City. People from New Jersey just call it
`the city'."

"I've never been there."

"You should take a trip there someday. A mix of
cultures you would not believe."

"It has a large gay population, right?" Jose questions
Mark.

As if dropping a hint, Mark inquires, "Are you gay?"

Smiling, Jose replies, "Yup. Is that alright with
you?"

Returning the smile, Jose can already sense the
relief, as Mark says, "No problem, `bro'!"

He didn't make the connection, even though there
developed a pause of silence. Continuing with the math
tutoring, time flew by and soon Jose was looking at
his watch, seeing the hand nearing six o'clock. When
he turned to tell Mark he thought they should quit, he
found Mark's hand in lap, still clutching the pencil,
his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling to the
rhythm of his heartbeat. Carefully he worked the
pencil from Mark's hand and placed it on the table. He
hoped the bed control would not wake him, but as he
reclined the eighteen year old patient, it was the
movement, not the hum waking him up.

"Oh, are we done already? I must've dozed off."

"We're done for today," Jose replied.

"Tell me something, Jose?" Mark asks. "How's my
brother doing?"

"I think he's having a rough time sorting things out.
Dr. Roberts is a psychiatrist. He's been up to see
Denis twice."

A sad feeling comes over Mark, as he relates, "I know.
It keeps coming to me, if I hadn't been there, Denis
might have... I don't even want to think about it."

Placing his hand on Mark's tricep, Jose says, "Don't
worry. The important thing is you helped him get to
the hospital. There are trained professionals here who
can help him, like Dr. Roberts."

"How come they wouldn't let Denis come visit me?" Mark
asks in a whiny voice.

Facing Mark, his hip up against the bed, Jose runs his
palm up and down Mark's arm, replying, "I think Denis
has a lot of things to sort out. Be patient, okay?"

"I can't believe you're only seventeen," Mark says,
staring up at his face.

"Most people think the same. I guess, in a way, I grew
up in a hurry."

"And you're so smart when it comes to math. I can't
believe you're in the eleventh grade and you
understand twelfth grade math," Mark tells him.

Giggling, Jose replies, "I kind of freaked out Mr.
Hanson."

"How so?"

"Over the Christmas vacation I went through the rest
of the math text book. I figured out all of the
problems and handed it in to him at the end of the
vacation. There was only two problems which stumped
me."

"Out of the whole book?"

"Most of it. So, between Mr. Hanson and me, he handed
me the twelfth grade math text and I've been doing
fairly well absorbing everything."

"Maybe you're a genius!"

Laughing, Jose says, "Nice of you to say it, but I
don't think so."

"What about your other classes? English? Science? The
rest?"

Jose's hand never left Mark's arm, as he explains,
"I'm okay. I get mostly A's."

"You're awesome!"

"Thanks. Well, I should be going..."

"It's dinner time. Your folks'll be worried," Mark
says.

"Not really. I eat here at the hospital. One of the
fringe benefits."

"You don't like your mom's cooking or something?"

Mark meant it as a joke, but instead Jose dropped his
chin to his chest, saying, "My mom was a good cook."

"Was?" Mark questions, getting some bad vibes.

"She died of cancer."

Squinting his eyes shut, putting his hand to his
forehead, Mark condems himself, "I'm such an idiot...
owch!"

"Careful," Jose says, "you'll open up those stitches."

"I didn't think it would hurt, just by pushing my head
into the pillow."

"The back of your head is still tender. You must've
really taken a hard fall."

Recalling the afternoon on the bluff, Mark's happy
attitude took a nose dive, as his fears returned. "I
had such a feeling come over me when Denis stepped to
the edge of the cliff. It's like all the sources of
love united together and I threw my arms around him in
one big grip. Then when I pulled back, I must've
tripped. I remember Denis falling back on top of me
the instant my head hit the ground, but nothing
after."

"I heard what happened after Denis realized you were
unconscious. Darryl told me."

"Darryl?"

"My `big brother'. He's not my real brother, but he
helped me out a lot after my mom died. He's a police
officer. He told me when they brought you two in,
Denis was a mess."

"He really scared the hell out of me up on the bluff.
Plus... never mind," Mark cut his sentence short, not
wanting to get into his intimate relationship with his
brother.

Sensing something too personal to relate, Jose asks,
"Hey, are you hungry?"

"I had lunch an hour ago, but it's not like food Max
would make at home."

"Who's Max? Your dad?"

"No. We have a cook. He used to do the housecleaning,
but my dads cut down on it because my little brothers
were getting to be lazy bums. They even had Max taking
Scruffy out for a walk and he was `their' dog!"

"Sounds nice," Jose replied, as he imagined what it
would have been like to have brothers and a pet. "Let
me go find us something to munch on and I'll come
back."

Walking to the door, Mark calls out, "Jose?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

%

Copyright 2007 T. Chase McPhee
This story may not be sold, nor made part of any
collection, without prior consent from the author.