Date: Sat, 30 Sep 2006 07:07:01 -0700 (PDT) From: Puer Amore <pueresamo@yahoo.com> Subject: The Ice Storm PT V THE ICE STORM (PT V ) By Barry pueresamo@yahoo.com Disclaimer: This work is one of fiction. Any resemblance of persons or places mentioned in this story to actual persons or places is only slightly more than coincidence. Copyright 2006 Barry. All Rights Reserved. Well, Let's get you some breakfast. I said. The sand trucks had run during our sleeping hours, so the roads appeared passable. Let's go over to Chubby's and get some breakfast. I suggested. Chubby's? He queried. Don't worry, Sweetie, I don't think you have anything to worry about from one visit to Chubby's. I said with a smile. Later, we'll go shopping and stock up on more healthy fare and pick up your favorite cereals and such. OK. He replied. During the drive to Chubby's, and to the grocery store, and to the clothing store, I listened carefully to the radio, fearing an Amber Alert would be issued for my Sweetie. Travis figured me out and told me rather matter-of-factishly; Don't worry; no one will be looking for me. (Sadly he proved to be right, then and since.) What about the boy's Ranch? Weren't they expecting you? NAW! He said. They didn't know I was coming. I was just going to show up there and hoped that they would take me in. I guess Ganymede had other plans for me, huh? He grinned. We looked at each other and, simultaneously, chanted THANK YOU GANYMEDE! By the time we returned that afternoon, the clouds were rolling in for round two of our winter storm. Would you prefer your own room, sweetie? I asked. No Way! He exclaimed. I never want to wake up and find you not there next to me. He insisted. That's what I was hoping you might say. I grinned. Then, let's get your new clothes de-tagged and into the washer. I suggested. You have to wash new clothes? He asked, with a puzzled look. Sweetie, I replied, these are made in some of the most God-forsaken places in the world and are crawling with every sort of cootie imaginable. YUK! He exclaimed. I never thought of that. YUK! He repeated. As we loaded Travis' new clothes into the washer, the freezing rain began again, and in earnest. Look's like another good evening for a blazing fire and a lot of cuddling. I proclaimed. Travis smiled and said I'll get some more wood. Where is it? You'll find it stacked in the garage, Sweetie. Grab an armful. That should last until bedtime. OK. He said. Soon, we were enjoying the warmth of the fire and the warmth of each other. Can I have a bourbon, please, Travis asked. Let's try something a little different tonight, OK? I suggested. I returned with a glass for each of us and gave him one. What is it? He asked. It's Wild Turkey Liqueur, Sweetie. It's a sort of pre-packaged Hot Toddy, it'll warm your.... Cockles, Right? He interjected. Right! I replied with a smile. We sat watching the fire, listening to the freezing rain spatter against the window, and me holding my Sweetie as he reclined against my breast. That's a neat stereo. He remarked. Thanks. I said. I explained; I'm an audiophile, that's someone who really appreciates good music and excellent equipment to play it on; I have spent some serious bucks on it. Would you like to hear some stuff? I asked. Sure. He said. What kinds of music do you like Travis? I inquired. Well, he began; we aren't allowed to listen to the radio or anything at the Temple, so all I know is gospel music. My tastes are eclectic, sweetie, but not quite that eclectic. Eclectic? He inquired. Yeah, Sweetie, it means that one has tastes that are varied in a manner that one appreciates things that wouldn't seem to go together. Like what? He asked. Like I appreciate Dan Fogelberg, and I also like Gregorian Chant. Gregorian what? He asked. It's a type of ancient religious music written in the sixth century for Pope Gregory. It's really quite beautiful. So you like ancient music and modern music at the same time, huh? He asked. Exactly, I confirmed. I like music, ancient or modern that moves my soul. Can we listen to some? He asked. Sure, I said. Chant is something we can, perhaps, grow into, unless you speak Latin, Sweetie, I smiled. Let's try some Fogelberg. OK. He said. Fogelberg's Greatest Hits CD was already in the mechanism. So I selected track 7, Make Love Stay. Travis, I said, this is my favorite. Listen to the music; you'll hear a saxophone made to cry over a lost love, joined shortly thereafter, by violins crying in response. It's brilliantly composed. Listen also to the words, the lyrics are absolutely inspired. OK. He said, as the music began. My mind tracked along with it: ..."Elusive as dreams....love like a phantom flies." Then came those lyrics that have come to reside in my very soul: "Moments fleet taste sweet within the rapture, when precious flesh is greedily consumed. But mystery's a thing not easily captured, and once deceased, not easily exhumed"... As it ended, I quickly switched off the stereo. This prompted Travis to turn to me abruptly and say You're right, that is beauti.... Barry, you're crying! What's wrong? He reacted. Sorry, baby. I replied. That song touches a place deep in my heart, indeed in my very soul. It's a special song I shared with someone a while ago. Don't be sad, Barry. I'm here now and I'll always be here. After all, Ganymede brought us together, Right? I never want you to be sad. He explained. Right! I said, confidently. Travis stretched out his young arms to me and I fell into them without reservation. How long I slept in his arms, I don't know. Barry, He said, Barry...let's go to bed now. It's getting late. OK, sweetie. Tonight we have heat, so we can sleep in my...I mean OUR bed. Great! He exclaimed. After the evening rituals, tooth brushing, etc. we shared a hot shower and climbed into bed. We snuggled all night and slept, as before, with Travis' arm around me.