Date: Sun, 26 Jan 2003 08:09:25 -0500
From: Tom Cup <tom_cup@hotmail.com>
Subject: Terms Of Living - Chapter 11 Gay/Bi - A/Y

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This is a fictional story involving alternative sexual relationships. If
this type of material offends you, please do not read any further. This
material is intended for mature adult audiences. Names, characters,
locations and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination
or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or
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************************************************************************

Term of Living
By Tom Cup
Chapter 11
Hadrian and Antinous

I took one last look into the mirror before heading out the door. Andrew had
been on the youth retreat for two days when I decided that I had put off my
visit with Gillian long enough. I didn't like being summoned by her, but I
liked the feeling that I was avoiding her even less. It was time to face my
own fears, and to lay some demons to rest.

As I lay with Andrew the morning he left for the retreat, his arm draped
over my chest, in that moment when we were not quite awake but aware of each
other, I realized that there truly was nothing more I wanted of this life
than to be with Andrew. All my reason had been given to convincing myself
that I needed to end my relationship with Andrew; that it would be the
practical thing to do. I am a practical man. I repeated this to myself over
and over again. But love is only practical in the sense that you find ways
to care for each other. Andrew loved me. I loved Andrew. The practical thing
to do was not to find a way to separate myself from Andrew but to prepare
for our future together. That was what was missing, in all my worry over
whether or not our love was right or wrong, what would happen if we were
discovered, I had avoided preparing for a future together.

With Connie, once I decided that I loved her, and she acknowledged that she
loved me, we began planning for our life together. We didn't know if that
life would materialize, but we worked toward it as if it would. With Andrew,
I was so entangled in the fine print of social mores, and political
correctness, and legal paradigms that I had never considered what I would do
to prepare for a life with him: It was live now and expect the end to
descend quickly.

"What are you thinking," Andrew asked.

"About us."

He sighed, and rolled on top of me; his head lay on my chest, our nude
bodies warming each other.

"I don't have to go," he whispered, "I'll stay if you want."

I kissed the top of his head. It was something that Connie would have said
in my reserve about her going off to some conference and leaving me to fend
for myself. No matter how capable one may be, one still regrets time apart
from the one you love. I wasn't afraid of Andrew going on the retreat, not
anymore than I would have been of Connie going to a conference of domestics.
I would simply miss my companion.

"The truth is," I said, "that I want you to go and I want you to stay. I
think you'll have a great time but I'll miss you."

"Maybe I shouldn't go. Maybe I've taken this church thing far enough."

"You enjoy it, Andrew. I can see that. And so do I. It is a much needed
social outlet. There's nothing wrong with that."

"There's something you're not telling me," Andrew said, resting his chin on
my chest and looking longingly into my eyes.

I exhaled deeply. "I'm thinking about the future."

Andrew groaned. "Not this again."

"No not that again. I thinking its time I retire. I mean really retire. Give
up the cottage and find a place of my own."

Andrew sat up in bed staring at me. I knew the thoughts that were going
through his mind. I smirked at the concern in his eyes as he examined me. He
waited.

"I want to start building a place for us, a future for us. We're hiding
here, under your parents' roof. I'm a bit old for that."

"But we can see each other whenever we want here."

"Yes but we aren't building anything. We're just hiding." I pulled him down
to me, and wrapped my arms around him. "I want to live Andrew. It's
something that you taught me. After all we have been through together, after
all my proclamations of casting off my conventions, I am still living my
life by other people's terms. I don't want to do that anymore. I want to
embrace the love that we have with vigor!"

"You're scaring me John."

"Scaring you? I don't think that is likely."

"Yes it is. Because I don't want to believe that you will really do it; I
want to be with you so bad it hurts. If I start believing that you're really
going to be with me, and you turn back, it will kill me."

"Don't you believe that I really want to be with you?"

"I know you want to be with me; I just don't believe you will. That's all."

It was like being in a "Roadrunner, Wild E. Coyote" cartoon. I was the
Coyote. I had just run full force into an oversized frying pan. Once again,
Andrew was ahead of me. I thought that I would leap frog into the leadership
position. I was being bold, proclaiming my love, ready to act upon my
convictions. I was expecting to turn and say to Andrew -- pointing in grand
fashion toward the future -- this way my boy, this is the way home! Only now
I found that he had been sitting on the stoop, waiting for me, all along!
Once again I was reminded that it wasn't Andrew that was keeping us from
fulfilling our love, it was me.

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

Gillian greeted me fondly when I arrived at her home. We walked the garden,
making small talk. I was barely focused on the chitchat; my mind was on my
next task. I had scheduled a meeting with Craig and Sheryl for that
afternoon.

"You really are a million miles away," Gillian said.

"I'm sorry, Gillian. I am a bit pre-occupied."

"It's refreshing really. No one has ignored me so thoroughly since Charles."
She laughed. "Surprised?"

I was, by two things. That Gillian confessed that Charles ignored her was
astounding given its personal nature, but that she would choose me as the
confessor boggled my mind. I nodded.

"May I take you into my confidence, John."

"Of course."

"I know what the others, well, perhaps even you, think of me. How I felt
Charles was a nuisance to have around, how I am happier now that he is gone
and I can go on and live my life the way I have always wished."

"Gillian, your personal affairs..."

"Please John, I need to tell someone. And I have a feeling you will
understand."

"Of course, please continue."

"I used to watch you and Connie. I was envious of you. You were always so
prim and proper, so distinguished and dignified, you were prefect together.
You behaved as, well, as people of status. I mean that in the kindest sense
John. But it was all window dressing. The longer one was around you, the
more evident the intense passion, you held for each other, burning beneath
the surface. Charles and I never had that. I longed for it. But it wasn't in
Charles. When I saw you and Connie together, it made me feel as if something
was wrong with me, that I couldn't make Charles love me as you loved Connie.
Toward the end, I suppose, I blamed Charles, as though he didn't have the
capacity to love. But he did. He always did. Just not me."

"Gillian..."

"I loved Charles from the first moment I met him. And from that moment I
knew that he would never be able to love me the way that I desired. But
things were different when Charles and I met. I suppose if it had been
today, we would have never married. Men don't need wives today in the sense
that they did when Charles and I married."

"Gillian..."

"But then again, I loved him. So I suppose I would make the same mistake
again. Marrying a man that could only truly love men."

The silence that erupted should have been terrifying, but it wasn't. Rather
it was soothing. I took Gillian's hand in mine. She guffawed, but did not
pull away.

"I'm sorry Gillian."

"Thank you, John. It's been horribly lonely through the years. I wished that
Charles had allowed me to at least see that part of him, the part that was
able to love. This house was big enough so that Charles could have ... did you
know he was with his lover before he met me, that they had a home together,
that... of course not.  I'm sorry."

"It's OK, Gillian. I understand."

"I know you do John. So now that you know my secret, I want to ask a favor."

I nodded.

"Don't abandon me John. You and Andrew mean too much to me."

"Gillian..."

"I saw it in your eyes, the need to retreat, to back away from the social
demands being placed on you and Andrew. I've known that you were in love
with each other, for quite some time. I doubt that anyone else suspects
anything but a mentoring relation between the two of you. But I lived with
it for so long, I am sensitive to it."

I bit my lip and furrowed my brow.

"Don't worry John. I'm not hateful or spiteful. Any fool can see that you
are no harm to Andrew. I simply want your word that when, or if, you decide
to pull away that I'll still be allowed to see you, the both of you. You can
visit with me here if you like."

"Gillian. Let's suppose what you're suggesting is in fact true. Why on earth
would you tangle yourself up in something of the nature?"

"Because I am tired of hiding, and because you and Andrew are tired of
hiding. All my life I have allowed society to dictate my terms of living.
Those terms were shit John. I pretended to be a happily married woman. My
husband pretended to be a happily married man; he was much better at his
pretence than I was at mine. Society forced Charles and I to live a lie,
John. The truth is that Charles did love me, and I loved Charles. Society
never saw that, not really, it was to busy forcing us to live the image of
love. Because society never accepted Charles for who he was, he could never
accept himself; and I could never love Charles openly for whom he was
because he was always hiding that person. I met Alan, Charles's other
partner, a few weeks before you came to visit. Do you know what we
discovered?"

I shook my head.

"We were all trapped: Charles, Alan and me. We all would have worked it out
somehow. But we didn't know how. I asked Alan why we kept separate
residences, why they didn't spend some time here. He laughed and asked if I
would have felt comfortable in Charles's and his home. You see? We never had
neural ground, a place where we could shut out society and grow to know each
other and love each other for who we really were. It took Charles's death to
bring Alan to a point where he felt he could come here. Alan and I have
decided to get together at least once a month, there is so much pretence in
our lives -- if I just walked away from the church, and my other social
obligations, God only knows what would happen. Besides, I need to be there
to skew the social paradigm. But at the same time, I need reality. I need to
know that there are like minded people in society, and that we can share
with one another from time to time."

"This is not the conversation I thought we would be having today," I said.

"Just think about it John. Whatever you decide, your secret is safe with me,
as I am sure mine is with you."

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

When Andrew returned, half of the cottage was packed in boxes. My
conversation with his parents had been acquiescent, though they disagreed
that I needed to move off of the property. I insisted that I needed more
privacy.

"You can hardly accuse us," Craig said, "of being intrusive to your
relationship with Andrew."

"I am not suggesting that Craig."

"Then what," Sheryl asked, I could clearly hear a mother's pain in her
voice, "Why would you want to leave Andrew? I just don't understand. He
loves you so much and we...."

I raised my hand, a gesture that would have been inappropriate for me as
domestic, freely expressing my determination to make my will known.

"I apologize but this isn't about you being intrusive or about abandoning
Andrew. It's about me, my needs. Since Connie's death I have been in limbo,
I have lost the sense of myself. True, I have largely gain that sense
through this household, but now it is time for me to strike out on my own
and discover who I am, once again."

"What about Andrew," Sheryl asked.

"Ah, now that is the question."

Andrew was pouting when he entered the cottage. I watched him as he walked
about lightly touching one box or another, waiting for him to finish
formulating the question that was on his mind.

"You didn't come and pick me up," he said.

"No."

His gaze left the box filled with my computer components, and fixed on me.

"Why?"

"Things have changed."

"What things?"

"The way we were living."

Tears burst from his eyes. "John, please!"

He stood as a statue, weeping. I went to him and enveloped him in my arms.

"I spoke with your parents. We've come to an agreement."

"Without me?"

"Yes, we needed to discuss this without you."

"Why? I knew I shouldn't have gone on that stupid retreat. I knew that if I
left you alone you would decide to leave me!"

I laughed. "I've decided to leave the cottage, not you; and I needed this
time apart so I could examine my life."

"I thought it was our life."

"Yes, it is. That's what I'm trying to tell you." We sat on the couch as I
explained my conversation with Gillian and then my conversation with his
parents. He listened intently. "Then I spent the rest of the week reading
various texts on pederasty."

"John, you're not a pedophile! You're not forcing me to do anything that I
don't want to do!"

"I know that Andrew. I just needed to clarify some things in my mind. What I
found was that our relationship was common in the ancient world. I didn't
know that the Greek culture idolized the boy/man relationship, and thought
it of benefit to not only the relationship of the two participants but to
the society at large. I know you may not understand this but that helps me,
to know that our present social norms aren't the only social norms to be
considered. But mostly it helps to know that there are others that can
understand our love. I guess I didn't believe that before. I do now."

"I'm so confused."

"I know. Come, I want to show you something."

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

The beach house was only fifteen minutes away from the Major residence.
Connie and I had eyed the small two-bedroom house a few times, and talked
about purchasing it. I was thrilled to find that it was still on the market.
It was a quaint place, the kind that a retired married couple could happily
spend their remaining years, reading quietly, walking along the beach, and
simply enjoying each other's company. Andrew inspected the house without
comment. I stood at the threshold watching him, again waiting for his
comment.

"Well, it isn't that far from the house," he said, exhaling at length.

"No."

"We can still see each other then?"

"I'm hoping so."

"Well I don't like it. I think the cottage is better. I liked being able to
sleep with you."

"And I with you."

"So why do you have to move here?"

"I thought if we moved here we could really be the couple that we both want
to be."

He turned slowly towards me.

"What?"

"It's close enough so you wouldn't have to change schools and ..."

The boy leapt in my arms. Our mouths enjoined. I was pulled to one of the
empty bedrooms. It was the first time I ever made love to anyone on a bare
bedroom floor. In the coming years I would make love in an increasing number
of unlikely locations. I'm sure, during those early years living together,
there were a number of people that questioned why Andrew left home to live
with me -- we had Craig and Sheryl's blessings, we had Gillian's support --
nothing ever reached us about any of those concerns. Joey Santangelo and
Andrew became friends, nothing sexual occurred between them though I suspect
that Joey wanted more. Joey found strength in Andrew and my relationship,
and eventually put two and two together. He remains one of our best friends.

As I set to end this writing, and retire to bed with my beloved Andrew, I
realize that all my old labels of right and wrong, gay, straight, and
bisexual, mean little in the face of pure unadulterated love, in view of a
love where both participants enter into the relationship with full knowledge
and competency. Such a love is ageless. To cast off so deep and abiding love
as Andrew and I possess, for the sake of maintaining a social paradigm that
refuses to acknowledge that love, is to me not living at all. Andrew calls
me his Hadrian. Fair enough, for he is my Antinous. We have loved through
his adolescence and into his manhood. We have satisfied ancient desires and
conquered modern conventions. We move now to the next phase of our life,
that of adult male lovers. It is my confidence, as with the previous phase
in our life, love will continue to govern our terms of living.

************************************************************************
Thanks so much to those that wrote in with their comments and encouragement
for this story.

My fondest wishes to all,

Tom Cup

"Why is it that the words we write for ourselves are so much better than the
words we write for others?" Sean Connery as William Forrester in the film
"Finding Forrester."