Date: Mon, 14 Jan 2002 18:08:23 -0500 (EST)
From: Sean Roberts <sr4172@yahoo.ca>
Subject: Lyle's Eighteenth Birthday

	This is the first story I have ever written, and as such, I would
deeply appreciate any feedback, positive or negative.  Please take a moment
to write me at sr4172@yahoo.ca, and share with me your opinions about my
writing.  Also, if possible, please include your age, and maybe a little
bit about yourself so that I will have a frame of reference for reading
your comments.

* * * *

	My name is Sean Fletcher, and I am seventeen years old.  I live
with my two parents and younger sister.  The only thing you need to know
about me is that I am interested in things dealing with the past.  My own
ancestry and the history of a country are two subjects that I am always
willing to attack with vigour.  I would like to begin with an extract from
my own journal.

* * * *

Friday, January 12, 2232

	I was not feeling well today, and as a result I missed school.  I
did not have a problem with this since I did not enjoy most of my courses.
Unfortunately, I missed history, the only class that I approach with great
enthusiasm.
	I needed something to do to pass my time, and for whatever reason,
I decided to explore the attic.  Because of all the dust, I began sneezing
almost immediately, but I did not give up.  It was full of boxes, chests,
and other old things that nobody would ever need.
	As I was looking around, I noticed a box sitting by itself in a
corner.  It seemed to have collected more dust than anything else, but
despite this had a life to it.  The box had many dents and markings, each
probably with a wonderful story behind it.  But my imagination was running
wild.
	There was no point in opening it, it probably just contained some
old clothes.  I approached it anyway.  Through the dust, I could see a name
written on top of it - Francine Taylor.  It belonged to someone on my
mothers' side of the family, someone I had never met.  I remember her
mentioning that way back somewhere, the name of her ancestors was Taylor.
	The box was obviously quite old, and I was assured that it did not
contain old clothes.  Unfortunately, it was not mine to open, and I chose
to wait and talk to my mother about it when she got home.
	Even though she enjoyed her job, she was usually tired when she
arrived home.
	"Mom!"  I yelled, when I heard her come through the door.  I ran
downstairs.
	"Hi honey," she said.  "I see you're feeling much better!"
	"Yes, yes, great.  Mom, I was in the attic today, and I saw this
box with someone's name on it, Francine Taylor.  I wanted to open it, but I
thought I should ask you first."
	"Oh, yes.  She lived long ago, almost two hundred years I think.
That box was hers, she used it to keep her very personal things.  She
passed it down to her children, and they kept passing it down until it came
to me.  Nobody ever opened it though.  I can't imagine why though, I would
have assumed her children at least would have, but they didn't."
	"Well can I open it then?"
	"Sure, I don't see the harm."
	"Thanks mom!"  Like a child running to get a new toy to play with,
I ran up to the box.  I blew on it to try and get some of the dust off, and
then carried it down to my room.
	As soon as I put it down, I opened it, and started looking through
it.  The contents contained many journals, and a couple of photo albums.
The journals interested me the most.  I quickly flipped through a few of
them, and found that they did not all belong to Francine.  Some of them
belonged to someone named Lyle Kingsley, and others belonged to someone
named Patrick Wells.  I could not wait to find out what they contained, and
I began reading them, taking a break only to write in my own journal.

* * * *

	I spent that entire weekend reading the journals I had found.
There was one incident that occurred around Lyle Kingsley's eighteenth
birthday that I found fascinating, mainly for personal reasons, and I plan
to re-tell it using a combination of his, and Patrick Wells' words.
	The three people involved in the story are Lyle Kingsley, Patrick
Wells, and of course Francine Taylor.  All of their accounts are very
detailed, so I should have no problem telling the story accurately.
	I now beseech you, the reader, to forget about me for now, and
experience the story through the eyes of the individuals who lived it.

* * * *

	My name is Patrick Wells.  I would like to share with you an
experience that changed my life, and changed the life of someone I care
about deeply.  Because of my feelings towards this person, I decided that
the best way to share this experience would be through his words, which I
have obtained from a journal he kept.  I have published only the entries
pertaining to the summer of his eighteenth birthday, but a short
introduction is necessary to properly understand where he is coming from.
From an early age, Lyle Kingsley has always been very shy.  Obviously,
this made it extremely difficult for him to make friends.  To make matters
worse, his shyness was often interpreted (even I thought that this was the
case) as him being unfriendly, and not wanting to make friends.  And so
Lyle spent his time in ways that did not involve other people.  He spent a
lot of time studying; he was at the top of his class.  From the time he was
little, his favourite hobby has always been reading, and this developed
into writing short stories, all of which are quite good.  He also
thoroughly enjoys swimming.  He has his own pool and so he can do so
whenever he pleases.  This may sound rather depressing, it is hard for one
to imagine a life without friends, but after getting to know him I found
that with him, it was almost the exact opposite.  He did of course long for
company, but he was a private person by nature, and so most of the time, he
preferred doing things on his own.  He was an only child and so his parents
lavished him with attention and money.  Surprisingly, he did not turn into
a spoilt brat.  His parents owned a large business together, and they were
very hard working, and ran their business with a lot of integrity.  This
made them excellent role models for Lyle, and their ethics rubbed off on
their son, whom they were very proud of.  Him and his parents lived in high
society, and this caused him to be a bit of a snob (something I too am
guilty of).  He attended private schools, enjoyed meals at high-class
restaurants and shopped in the best stores.  But even this was not all bad.
He had impeccable manners that allowed him to get along well with his
parents friends.  When he was a bit older, he felt right at home
entertaining his parents' guests who would come for dinner, or attending a
party full of adults.  At the age of seventeen, Lyle was becoming quite
handsome.  He had short blonde hair, which he used a lot of gel in (as is
the style nowadays).  His bright, blue eyes added a splash of colour to his
face.  Being 5'2", he was a little short for his age, but still handsome.
He was not muscular, but having very little fat kept his body well defined.
His looks combined with his exquisite taste in clothes, and good manners
made him very attractive to women, but he never mustered up the courage to
talk to one, and, except for one time, it did not happen the other way
around either.  This also did not bother him quite so much, because he was
attracted to people of both genders, but his attraction to boys was much
stronger.  In one of his entries, he described what he deemed to be a
perfect boy.

What I truly see myself falling in love with is a young boy.  Blonde hair,
blue eyes, red lips and perfectly smooth skin are possessions that I see in
someone I could spend my life with.  Of course features should complement
one another to render the boy handsome.  I have the features I desire, but
they do not come together to form beauty.

He was wrong about that last statement, but we shall get into that later.
The story will starts with Lyle at age seventeen, on his last day of
school.

* * * *

Friday, June 24th, 2001

	In my entire life, I have never had such a horrible a day as today.
I arrived home after school to find my house in a blaze.  My parents were
standing outside, watching, while my mother cried.  The firemen were
frantically trying to put out the fire, but it did not look like there
would be much left at the end.  I ran up to my parents and asked what
happened.
	"Oh it's all my fault!"  Exclaimed our cook, Marie.  She too was in
tears.  "I was cooking, and suddenly it caught fire, and, and I couldn't
stop it!  I panicked!"  She could hardly make out her words.
	"Marie, Marie, it was an accident, it's not your fault."  I then
went to console my mother.  My father could not handle them both at the
same time, and he was trying his best to make sure they both kept their
cool.  A few hours later, the fire had been put out, and none of our
possessions survived.  This, I was not too concerned about.  Practically
everything could be purchased again.  Unfortunately, we had things in the
house handed down to my parents from far off generations, and I had the
journal that I have been keeping for two years.  I have been using my
journal to record my experiences and feelings, and so what I wrote in it is
irreplaceable.
	"The only thing we have left is a car," my mother said, still
sobbing.
	"Your car," my father added, handing me a set of keys.  "It was for
your birthday, it's that luxury sport utility you wanted.  Your aunt and
uncle were bringing it by for us tonight."  They arrived not too long after
and drove us to their place.  When we got there, I discovered that my
parents had already planned what was going to be happening for the rest of
the summer.
	"We hadn't told you yet," said my father, "because we only found
out today.  Something urgent came up with the business today, and your
mother and I have to go out of town to take care of it.  We'll be gone for
three months, so we can't take you up to the cottage this year.  You can
stay here with Linda and George, or you can go up by yourself if you like."

	Lyle's parents owned a beautiful summer cottage that was on a
private beach with a large lake.  The cottage was beautiful.  It was
equipped with a swimming pool, a gym, a sauna, a tennis court, a squash
court, and many other amenities.  His parents took him up there every
summer for at least a month.

	I was devastated that I was not going to the cottage with my
parents.
	"What about our house?  And all of our things?"
	"Linda and George are taking care of it for us.  Your mother and I
are going to Paris, we're planning to shop there.  Our house will be
re-built as quickly as possible.  We're giving you money so that you can go
shopping to replace everything of yours that perished."

Saturday, June 25th, 2001

	I got up early this morning to take my parents to the airport.  I
still had only my school uniform to go shopping in, but it did not look so
much like a uniform without the tie.  The remainder was grey pants, a black
jacket with my school's crest and a white dress shirt.  Except for the
crest, it was not so bad.
	I have always enjoyed shopping, but only when I was in the mood.  I
was certainly not in the mood today, but I did not have a choice.  I simply
decided to make the most of it.

	I knew I would have to get everything done as quickly as possible,
since I did not want to return to the mall after that day, and so I made
sure to arrive at the mall as soon as it opened.  Luckily, the mall had
everything I needed, so there was no driving around.  First, I went to an
electronics store and bought a laptop, a digital camera, a Palm Pilot and a
walkman.  Just my luck, I had left all those things at home that day
because I did not need them on my last day of school.  I bought a new
cellular phone - not that I ever had anyone to call, but there was no phone
at the cottage and so I needed one in case of an emergency.  I then bought
luggage, I needed a suitcase and a duffel bag for my summer at the cottage.
	Clothes took the longest.  Nothing had been salvaged, and so I
needed everything.  I had to buy boxer shorts and socks.  I purchased a
number of dress shirts, suits and ties for formal occasions.  For the
cottage I needed swimming trunks, t-shirts, sandals, running shoes, sweat
pants, sweaters and a fall jacket.  I spotted a winter jacket that I liked,
so I bought it, even though I did not need it immediately.  I needed casual
clothes for activities like shopping, and so I bought some khaki pants.  I
found a pair of sunglasses that I liked much nicer than my old ones.  My
watch was fine, but I bought a new one anyway.
	I managed to find a leather journal that I liked, and I had it
monogrammed.  I also required a new fountain pen to write in it with.  I
bought my aunt and uncle a crystal vase to thank them for their
hospitality.
	I bought most of these items from a department store, and as a
result, I tired out the poor sales associate who assisted me.  She was very
patient though, so to thank her I bought her a bottle of perfume.  Thinking
back, I was probably a little extravagant. It took three sales associates
to help me carry everything to my car.  Luckily, I finished before the
store closed.
	When I arrived back at my aunt and uncle's house, they confessed
that they were worried about what had happened to me.  They had not
expected me to take so long and they were calling the phone that had burned
in the fire, so obviously there was no answer.
	Even though I was exhausted, they made me show them everything I
had bought.  I did not mind though.  They were a wonderful couple who were
married very recently, and they both had a wonderful sense of humour.  They
were the closest to my age of all my aunts and uncles and so I felt more at
ease with them than with any of the others.  They thanked me profusely for
the vase, telling me that it was their pleasure to have me staying with
them.
	After dinner, I sorted through everything I bought, putting what I
needed for the cottage into a suitcase.  Whatever I did not need I was
leaving at their house.  I looked through my schoolbag and I found my
journal.  I usually did keep it with me, but for some reason I thought that
I had left it at home that day.  This cheered me up, as my journal is
something very precious to me that I would never want to lose.
	Unfortunately, what I did not have copies of were the short stories
I had written.  They were all stored on my computer, and I could never get
them back.



Sunday, June 26th, 2001

	I woke up early again, this time because I had to leave for the
cottage.  It was a rather long drive, and I had to buy groceries along the
way, so I had to leave as early as possible.  My aunt and uncle told me to
return whenever I wanted, and to call when I arrived.
	The last thing I felt like doing was shopping again, but the
previous day I had forgotten to buy books.  I bought as many as I thought I
would need, and then I bought groceries.  What I bought consisted mostly of
frozen foods, but also included some ingredients for cooking actual meals.

	I arrived in good time, and I promptly phoned my aunt, put away the
groceries and unpacked.  I took the new equipment I had bought to the study
(where there was a high-speed internet connection) and opened it all up.  I
sent a message to my parents telling them where I was and giving them the
number to my new phone.

Monday, June 27th, 2001

	All of the stress of the past few days caught up with me and I
slept most of the day.  When I woke up, I had a shower, put on a pair of
swimming trunks and had breakfast.  I then took a long swim in the lake,
and then decided to go to bed after writing in my new journal.

Tuesday, June 28th, 2001

	I caught up on my sleep rather quickly, and so I managed to wake up
early this morning.  I got out of bed, and then realized that I had not
bothered changing clothes last night, I was still wearing the swimming
trunks I swam in yesterday.  I took them off and looked at myself in the
full-length mirror I had in the room.
	The first thing I noticed was the hair on my body.  There was not a
lot - I had just a few thin hairs on my legs and just a little bit of pubic
hair.  I looked at myself and hoped that no more would grow, I thought I
looked quite nice without a lot of hair all over me.
	I took a quick shower and put on sun block on.  There was nobody
around to put any on my back, but I did the best I could.  I dressed in
swimming trunks, a t-shirt and sandals, and then ate a quick breakfast.  I
made some sandwiches for lunch and took them down to the beach with my
towel and a book.
	I was not really in the mood for swimming, so I lay down on a beach
chair and started reading.  The book was not very good, so my mind wandered
and I began thinking of other ways to amuse myself.  I put the book down,
and looked around.  I was used to my parents being there, but this time
they were not, and being a private beach there was nobody else around
either.  I sat up a little to take my shirt off, and then I put it down
beside me.  I lay back down and closed my eyes.  An image of a young and
beautiful boy dressed only in a pair of boxer shorts came into my mind.  He
was lying down on my bed, with his knees in the air and his eyes closed.  I
massaged my left nipple while I walked up to the boy lying on the bed.  It
quickly hardened, as did my penis.  I slowly ran my hand down my stomach,
and then into my shorts, withdrawing it just as it touched the base of my
penis.




I felt the boys' nipples, and then I took off his shorts, and for a minute,
did nothing but stare at him.  His skin was perfectly smooth, with no hair
or imperfections of any kind.  His penis was sticking straight up in the
air, and his eyes remained closed, as if he was waiting for me to do
something.  I spread his legs, and the rested my hands on his waist.
Without any hesitation, I took his penis into my mouth, and stroked the
rest of it with my hand.  He moaned as I pleasured him, until he exploded
and my mouth filled with warm cum.  I opened my eyes and was still holding
onto my penis.  There was cum running down it, and some had sprayed onto my
arm.  I got up and went over to the lake.  I did not have soap with me, but
I made do without it and managed to get all of the ejaculate off myself.
When I was finished, lay on the beach chair and fell asleep while the sun
dried me off.  When I woke up, swam again, ate and then went back to the
cottage.  It was still early, and so I watched a movie that was playing on
television.  I thought that I would be bored coming up alone to the
cottage, but I was quite mistaken.  In previous years, my parents and I
would swim, watch movies and play games together, but being here without
them is not as bad as I had anticipated.

Wednesday, June 29th, 2001

	I heard the unmistakable sound of rain when I woke up this morning.
This was unfortunate because I especially felt like relaxing on the beach
that day.
	I had to substitute the lake for the swimming pool, but I still
enjoyed myself.  I took a much longer swim than I usually did, and with
that I managed to pass a lot of time.  After showering, I had breakfast,
and decided to check my e-mail.  I had only one message from my parents.
They told me that their trip was going well, and that they wanted to know
how I was doing.  I replied and told them that I was having a good time.  I
went back up to my room, lay down on my bed and began reading a new book.
This one was much better than the one I had started originally, and so it
kept me entertained for considerable longer.  When I stopped reading, my
mind went back to boys.  I pulled down my shorts and began stroking my
penis.  Suddenly, there was a clap of thunder, and startled, I stopped
masturbating.  I quickly realized that it was just thunder, and I looked at
my hard penis sticking up in the air.  The tip had become a little wet, and
I wondered what it would taste like.  I touched my index finger to the tip
and put it in my mouth.  I tasted a little salty, but sweet at the same
time.  I began rubbing my penis again, and I soon had an orgasm.  A large
amount of the ejaculation ended up on my hand, and I used my mouth to clean
it off.  I received a big surprise when I licked it.  It tasted nothing
like the little bit I enjoyed earlier.  It was in fact quite vile.  It does
not taste the same in large amounts.  I finished cleaning myself off in the
bathroom, and then went downstairs for a snack.

Thursday, June 30th, 2001

	I was glad to see the sun shining this morning.  After eating a
quick breakfast and making lunch I hurried down to the beach.  When I
arrived at the beach, I had a sudden urge to go skinny dipping.  I quickly
shed my clothes and dove into the lake.  When I was tired, I lay down on
the beach chair, and took a nap.  I do not know how long I was asleep for,
but when I opened my eyes, someone was staring down at me.


"Ah!"  I shouted as I fell off the chair.  I frantically grabbed my shorts,
and held them in front of me when I stood up.  The person was a boy around
my age and height.  I looked at him, and became hard.  He had wavy blonde
hair; and blue eyes that shone with the sun.  His features all complemented
each other to make him very handsome.  He had bare feet, and was wearing
red swimming trunks and a white t-shirt.
	"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.  My name's Patrick."
	"Do you think you could turn around for a minute?"  I asked him.
He did and I quickly got dressed.
	"I'm Lyle Kingsley.  This is a private beach you know?"
	"Yes I know.  I'm staying at the cottage almost directly across the
lake.  You can't see it from here.  I was out on my boat and it ran out of
petrol.  I saw your cottage and I paddled here, I was hoping I could borrow
some."
	"Oh, I'm afraid I don't have any, but I could drive you to the
store to get some."
	"That's very kind, but I don't want to put you out.  It's a
two-hour drive to the nearest town.  I'll just paddle back."
	"No, I insist.  I need to pick up some things anyway."  That was a
lie but I did not want to pass up the chance to spend an afternoon with
him.  This time I met someone on my territory, and this increased my
confidence and I was more assertive than usual.
	Luckily, he did not mention his finding me naked.  If he had, I
would have been very embarrassed, and not enjoyed being with him.  He had
looks and a tasteful sense of humour - he was becoming more and more
appealing to me.  Most people I know would have made many distasteful jokes
by now.
	"I'll take you up on your offer if it isn't any trouble.  I don't
want to spoil your afternoon."
	The long drive gave us a lot of time to talk and get to know each
other.  Because I am timid, Patrick did most of the talking.  I did not
mind this at all - I thoroughly enjoyed getting to know him.
	"What I wouldn't give to be able to stay in our cottage alone!"  He
said after I told him that I was alone at mine.  "Don't get me wrong, I
love my family, it's just that its nice to be alone, or even just with
friends sometimes."
	"I know what you mean.  Being here alone has been great.  It's nice
being able to do whatever you want without worrying about other people."
	"I could see that," he said, smirking.  All right so he made one
small joke, but I was somehow very comfortable with him, and it did not
embarrass me.
	"Well there's never anybody around, like I said the whole place is
private, and people only come in on Saturday's to clean."  I do not know
why I felt I needed to defend what I was doing, but it seemed the right
thing to say at the time.
	We ended up getting along well, but it all ended when we got back
to his boat.  He filled it up, and then got in it.
	"I really need to be getting back, my parents are probably very
worried."
	"Yes I imagine they would be, I'll see you around I guess."
	"Yeah, we'll see."  He revved his engine and sped off.  He was
finally gone!  Not that I wanted him to leave, but I do not think I could
have controlled myself for much longer.  I did not bother leaving the
beach.  I took off my clothes, lay on the sand and masturbated while
thinking of Patrick.
	"You've done it again Lyle," I said to myself, when I finished
pleasuring myself.  I should have invited him to stay with me, or at least
to come over sometime.  I had the entire summer to spend here, but I had
nothing to do.


Friday, June 30th, 2001

	I climbed up to bed naked, and simply collapsed on top.  I did not
bother with the covers, the warm summer weather kept me very comfortable.
	The touch of a hand on my bare shoulder woke me up around two in
the morning.  I woke up, and saw a figure staring down at me.  It was dark,
and I could not see who it was.
	"Wh-, who are you?"  I whispered.  I could not see a thing, and I
was terrified as I had no idea who this person was.  The hand lifted off my
shoulder.
	"It's me, Patrick."  I was relieved and surprised at the same time.
At least it was not someone trying to rob me.  Upon hearing his name, I
became aware of the fact that I was naked.  I did not move, hoping that he
could not see that I had no clothes on.
	"Patrick?  How did you get in?"
	"The front door was open."
	"It was?  I must have forgotten to lock it, but what are you doing
here?"
	"Something happened, and I need somewhere to spend the night, and,
and I have nowhere else to go.  I was hoping it would be all right with you
if I stayed, just for tonight."
	From the sound of his voice, it seemed that he was about to start
crying.  I got out of bed and put on the shorts I had thrown on the floor
earlier.
	"Patrick, of course you can stay, but is everything alright?"  He
thought for a minute, and then answered,
	"no."
	"Well then what happened?"
	"Well my parents found, well it didn't exactly happen that way.
They, they sort of, umm, actually Lyle, its kind of personal and-"
	"Say no more.  If you don't feel comfortable telling me than don't.
Look it's late and you must be exhausted.  You can have the room next to
mine.  I'll just go and get linen; I'll be right back.  In the meantime you
can go and get yourself settled.  Do you need clothes or anything?"
	"No, I brought all my stuff.  It's downstairs near the front door,
I'll go bring it."  I went to fetch linen for him and he went to get his
things.  I met him back in the bedroom and we began making the bed
together.
	"By the way Patrick, how did you get here?"
	"I brought my boat."
	"In the middle of the night?  Isn't that dangerous?"
	"Look the last thing I need is another lecture!  I didn't have a
choice; I couldn't have gotten here any other way!  I didn't bring my car
to the cottage!  Just mind your own business ok?"
	"Alright Patrick, I'm sorry."  Normally, I would not put up with an
almost complete stranger breaking into my house and then yelling at me, but
something was obviously wrong with him and I did not want to make matters
worse by engaging in a conflict.  I thought that the best thing to do would
be to leave him alone; I hoped that he would be ready to talk when he woke
up in the morning.  "If you get hungry, you can help yourself to anything
in the kitchen.  There's a bathroom through that door, and I'm right next
door if you need anything."
	I said those words sternly, but I tried to maintain an air of
hospitality. "Good night Patrick."  I began walking away.



"Wait Lyle."  I turned around to see him wiping away a tear.  "I had no
right to yell at you like that I'm sorry.  Please don't be angry with me.
I've just had a horrible day, I'm not thinking straight, and, and I
shouldn't have even come here and bothered you, I think it's best if I
leave.  I'm sorry, I'm really sorry I just didn't know what else to do.  I
mean I don't have anyone who can help me through this, and it isn't like I
expected you to but I just needed to get away but I couldn't go anywhere in
the middle of the night and so I came here and all I wanted-"
	I thought that this was a good place to interrupt him.  He was
becoming hysterical.  I went up to him and held him by the shoulders.
	"Patrick, you came to the right place.  You can stay here as long
as you need to, and you have me to help you through this, whatever 'this'
is.  Now, just try to get some sleep."  He climbed into bed, and I turned
out the light.
	"Remember, my room is right next door.  If you need anything at
all, don't hesitate to ask.  Good night."
	"Thank-you Lyle, good night to you as well."
	I got back to my room, and obviously Patrick was the only thing I
could think about.  I thought about how wonderful it would be if he stayed
for the rest of the summer - but of course this was very selfish of me.  I
knew that they best thing for him would be to get whatever it was that
happened resolved and return to his parents.  I could not, however, get him
out of my mind.  I wanted him more than anything, and it took all of my
self control not to run into his room, jump on the bed, take the covers off
him, take his shirt off, take his-well, there is no need for me to get
carried away.

Saturday, July 1, 2001

	I had to wake up at five this morning to get things ready for the
cleaners. This meant waking up Patrick as well.  I opened his door as
quietly as I could and walked in.  He was sleeping like a baby, curled up
underneath the covers and breathing softly.  I did not have the heart to
wake him, yet I had no choice.
	I went up to him and gently touched his shoulder.
	"Patrick," I whispered.  "Patrick its Lyle, you have to wake up."
This did nothing, I needed to be slightly louder.
	"Patrick," I whispered again, "wake up Patrick."  I shook him a
little.  He finally woke up.  "I'm sorry to wake you, but the cleaners are
coming in an hour.  We have to be out of here."
	"What?"  He asked in a daze.  I explained to him that every
Saturday people came in to clean the cottage.
	"You're saying that we have to leave because servants are coming?
Isn't this your place?"
	"That's not the point," I said, becoming annoyed with his attitude.
If it was not enough that he broke in and disturbed me in the middle of the
night, he was now arguing when I said we had to leave.  "They say that we
get in the way, and that they can do a better job when we're not in the
house.  I know it's dumb.  God only knows what they need the house to
themselves for, but the point is they do a good job and we've never had
anything stolen.  It's just for a few hours, get up and get dressed."
	"Oh Lyle no, I'm so tired, they can clean around me."



"Alright that's enough!"  I yelled.  "First I drive you to get petrol for
your boat and you didn't even thank me.  Then you walk into my house in the
middle of the night telling me you need a place to stay, and then telling
me to mind my own business when I ask you what's wrong!  On top of that you
won't even get up when I'm saying that you have to!  I want you out of this
house in ten minutes, and I want you and your boat off my property in
fifteen!"
	My anger towards him faded after that release, and I returned to my
room.  But then I felt much worse, and I sat down on my bed.  Something
pretty bad had happened to him, which is why he was acting this way.  I
should have remembered that and been more kind.  Even if he was taking
advantage of me, he obviously needed help, and he had not done anything
really that bad.
	He was reading my mind at that moment, and he walked into my room
wearing only a pair of boxer shorts.  This was the first time I saw him
almost completely naked.  His build and mine are very similar - slender,
but well toned.
	"Lyle," he said.  "Lyle I'm sorry.  I am under a lot of stress
right now, and I haven't been able to think straight, but that's no excuse
for my rudeness.  I--I owe you an explanation of, well, everything, but
like I said before, its very personal, and I'm not ready to share it with
anybody.  To be perfectly honest, you're the best friend I've ever had.  I
don't know anybody who would have put up with everything I've done to you
in the past couple of days.  I'm sorry that I haven't been treating you
with the same amount of respect-"
	"Patrick that's enough, really.  I hardly know you, and I'm not
putting up with what you've been doing.  I understand that you're going
through something, and if you can't, or don't want to tell me, or whatever,
I understand that too."  I stood up before continuing.  "My parents taught
me to always help people in need, and I'm going to do my best to continue
helping you.  If you need something from me, just ask.  If you need to stay
with me, or you need a lift to get petrol for your boat, or whatever, I'm
happy to do it for you.  If you choose to be rude and not even thank me,
then there is nothing I can do about that.  But when I ask you to do
something like what I asked this morning, I expect not to be argued with.
If you think you can manage that, you have forty-five minutes to get all
your things and leave, or unpack your things, have a shower and get
dressed."
	"Yes, I can manage that.  Thank-you."  He left, and I was very
pleased with myself.  I was not trying to make him feel bad, but I wanted
him to understand my position.
	Three quarters of an hour later, Patrick was waiting for me at the
front door.
	"I thought we could drive into town and get some breakfast, that
would give them enough time to finish, how does that sound?"
	"It sounds great, but I'll have to go change, I'm wearing swimming
trunks."
	"Yes, well they aren't here yet, take your time."  He went to
change, and the cleaners arrived.  I told them to make up the guest room
properly, and then Patrick and I left.  For the first few minutes of the
drive, none of us said anything until Patrick spoke.
	"You must think I'm a horrible person Lyle, but I'm really not.  I,
I didn't mean to be so rude, I really didn't.  You've been great to me,
and-"
	"I don't think you're a horrible person."  I was interrupting him
quite a lot today.  "I know that something's going on with you, so you're
excused."
	"My parents and I had a really big fight, and it was obvious that
it was not going to get settled anytime soon.  It's what we fought about
that's really personal, but I can assure you that it is entirely their
fault.  Anyway, we all thought it best if we lived apart for the summer.
None of us would have a good time at the cottage or back at home with each
other around, so my parents told me that I could stay at the cottage with
my brothers or they would.  I obviously didn't want to spend the summer
babysitting, so they said they would drive me home the next morning."
	"Yet you're here with me," I said.
	"Yes, after we came to that agreement, we resumed our fight.  The
drive back is six hours long, and fighting with my parents in a car for six
hours, well none of us would survive it.  Anyway our argument became more
and more heated, until I could not take it anymore.  I told them that I was
going to bed, and I snuck out, took the boat and left."
	"You just left?  Without telling them?  I know you were mad, but
still they're going to be very worried about you.  I have a phone here, why
don't you call them and tell them you're alright?"
	"They don't care if I'm alright!  If I died they would probably
throw a party.  I'm not calling them."
	"Patrick!  How can you say a thing like that?  They're your
parents.  What if I call them for you?  I don't have to tell them who I am
or where you are.  I'll just say that I'm a friend, and you're with me and
you're alright, and that I'm just calling so that they wouldn't worry."
	"No, look, that's very nice but I don't want to get you involved."
	"I'm already involved.  You're staying with me remember?  Now
listen, one of us is calling your parents.  If you refuse, I'll drive over
there and tell them personally."
	"Alright fine!"  He agreed to my calling them, and I did.
	"Your mum was crying in the background," I said.  "I mean was that
because she found out that you're alive and well?  Anyway, it was your
father I spoke to.  He said that your mother and he want you to come home;
they want to speak to you.  He didn't say what about, so I still don't
know.  He also said that if you're not ready to talk right away, then maybe
in a few days.  I promised to pass on the message."
	"How long can I stay with you?"  He asked me.  I did not know what
to tell him.  I hardly knew him, and if he turned out to be the person he
had been acting like the past few days I certainly did not want him around.
	"If you're implying permanence, absolutely not."
	"Well, no, but I just wanted to know, I mean I want you to tell me
because I don't want to ruin your vacation any more than I have already,
and I will leave as soon as you want me to."
	"For now, its fine.  Stay a few days, cool off and think about what
it is you want.  After that, you'll have to make a decision about talking
to your parents."
	"Thanks Lyle," he said.  "If there's any way I can pay you back for
all this,"
	"We'll worry about that when an opportunity comes along, but I need
to know something first.  That first day we met, I had a really good time.
I mean we drove together for four hours, and I don't know about you but it
hardly seemed like anything because I enjoyed talking to you.  Then when
you came again, I was happy because I thought it would give us a chance to
know each other better, so basically what I'm saying is that I think of you
as a friend.  If you don't feel the same way about me, and you're just here
with me because you need a place to stay, I want you to tell me.  But
before you answer, even if that is the reason, I won't kick you out, and I
won't be mad.  The way you've been acting makes me think that that's why
you're here with me right now. I'll stop talking now and let you say
something."
	"I had a lot of fun as well.  I promise I'll be a better guest from
now on and I'm sure we'll enjoy living together."
	"I'm glad to hear you say that."  We conversed pleasantly for the
remainder of the drive, and Patrick insisted on paying for breakfast and
whatever groceries that we needed.  He even filled up my car for me.  I
explained that it was not necessary, but he was adamant about it.  I
suppose he is in fact a good person, and whatever it is that he was going
through is what caused him to act the way he did.
	After eating, we did not feel like heading back, and decided to
stay in town and go watch a film.  We could not do this since the cinema
did not open until later, and so we just headed back.
	The conversation on the way back was non-existent, but this time it
was me who broke the ice.
	"So you mentioned brothers?"
	"Yes, I have two."
	"How old are they?"
	"One is 13 and the other 14.  Actually, they're not really my
brothers.  They're both adopted."
	"I see," I said.
	"Yeah, they're really cool though.  They fight a lot and get on
everyone's nerves sometimes, but when they're not fighting they get along
really well together and they're funny and love to fool around.  Not to get
demeaning but they're like dogs somewhat."
	"I know what you mean," I said, chuckling.
	"Tell me about your parents."  I figured out pretty quickly that he
did not need a lot of stimulation to get him talking, and so short phrases
such as that one would do just fine.
	"Well I don't know about my parents.  I love them a lot.  They
pretty much let me do what I want, just as long as they know that I'm not
getting into trouble and keeping my grades up.  We get along really well
too, except for this last incident.  What are yours like?"
	"To tell you the truth they aren't very different.  They own a
business together and so they're always extremely busy.  We always came
down to the cottage together during the summer.  That was the most time
we've ever spent together, but they couldn't make it this year."  I went on
to explain what happened with the fire and my parents' trip.
	"We do that too," he said, "except we only come for a week.  This
year though, my parents planned to stay for the whole summer, and look what
happened!"
	"It's a shame," I said.  "This thing that happened, if you were to
tell me what it was, would there be something I can do to help it get
resolved?"
	"No, I don't think so."
	"You know, if you did tell me, I promise to keep it a secret.  I
mean there isn't even anybody that I would want to tell anyway.
	"It isn't that," he said.  "I want to tell you, and I've been
waiting for the right time.  I mean I guess it isn't that big a deal, but
it's hard for me to say."
	"Alright, I won't bring it up again then.  Just make sure that when
you're ready you do tell me."
	"Thanks Lyle."
	We got back to the cottage, and Patrick helped me check that
everything had been done properly.
	"So, what do you want to do for the rest of the day?"  I asked him.
He removed his shirt, and said,
	"How about a swim?"  We changed, went down to the beach and swam.
Patrick was still a child at heart, and this made the experience a lot of
fun.  We splashed around, tried to hold each other under water and tried to
out-swim each other.
	It did not take us long to tire ourselves out, and we got out of
the lake.  I watched him come out, and my eyes were fixed his wet trunks
sticking to his body.
	"I have a sauna, and a hot tub," I said.
	"Sauna. I think I've had enough water today."  We went to the
sauna, and again nobody said anything for a while.

"By the way, I have a computer in the study, with internet, so if you ever
want to check e-mail, you can go ahead.  There's also a television in the
recreation room, with a billiards table and table tennis.  We have a tennis
court in the back as well.  So as you can see, lot's to do."
	"Yeah, that all sounds great!  I don't think you'll ever get rid of
me!"  I let out a little laugh.  I had not yet decided if this is something
wanted or not.  When we tired of the sauna, we went back and prepared
dinner together.  Neither of us bothered changing, and so I was able to
stare at his naked upper body the whole time.  After dinner, we watched a
movie.  Afterwards, Patrick went to bed and I decided to write in my
journal.

Sunday, July 2, 2001

	I woke up just two hours after I went to bed last night, and could
not get back to sleep.  I decided to go and send a message to my parents,
telling them about Patrick.  They would not mind him staying with me, but
they would definitely prefer to hear it from me and not from the servants.
	I climbed down the stairs, and saw a light on in the study.
	"Did I leave it on before I went to bed?"  I asked myself.  I could
not remember, but I assumed that I had.  I opened the door, and Patrick was
sitting on the desk, reading something.  He looked up, saw me, and slammed
my journal shut.
	"Lyle!  Hi," he said.  His voice was full of guilt.  "Did I wake
you Lyle?  I'm sorry, I just came down to check my e-mail, and I couldn't
figure out how your computer worked."  I could not believe what he was down
here doing.  Both my old one and my new one were on the desk, but I do not
know how much he got through.  Tears began to form in my eyes, and as much
as I tried, I could not hold them back.
	"You have to open the computer first," I said, my voice a little
shaky.  My new laptop was sitting closed on the desk.
	"Oh," he said.  "I've never used one of these, these, what are they
called again?"  As coldly as I could manage, I replied
	"Laptops."
	"Yeah, right, laptops.  But you know what?  It's all right.  It's
late, and it can wait until tomorrow, or even the day after, I probably
don't have anything important.  So what did you come down for?  Did you
want to use the computer?  I'll just get out of your way then."  He stood
up, but walked slowly towards the doorway because that is where I was
standing.
	I did not know what to do.  I needed time to think of how I wanted
to thandle this, ut I did not have time.  I had to do something, or not do
anything.  Whichever I chose, it had to be carried out immediately.
	"How much did you read Patrick?"
	"Read?  Oh nothing, I've read all the books in this room."  I was
in no mood to beat around the bush with this issue, but at the same time I
wanted to delay finding out how much he had read.
	"There are hundreds of books in this study, and you mean to tell me
you've read them all?"
	"Lyle I didn't know what it was, it was just on the desk, and it's
very nice, I just opened it to see what it was.  As soon as I figured out
it was your journal, I stopped."
	"It seemed like you were reading it when I came in."



"Well I was, but you didn't let me finish.  I really did stop, because I
knew that it was personal, and I had no business reading it.  But then I
was curious as to how you really felt about my staying here with you, and I
thought you might have written something about it.  See I was going to
leave if you really didn't want me here and were just letting me stay to be
nice."
	"Did you get your answer?"
	"Yes," he said, and then swallowed.  My tears began flowing faster.
I cannot recall a time I have ever been so embarrassed.  Despite that, I
knew that I had to handle this situation and keep my dignity at the same
time.
	"If you stick around and read tomorrow's entry," I said, "the
answer might change."  I turned around and was about to leave when he
called my name.
	"Lyle," he said.  "Lyle wait."
	"What now?"  I said, making my irritation obvious.
	"I'm not asking to stay or anything, but please don't be mad, I
didn't mean any harm."
	"You didn't mean any harm?  No of course you didn't because going
through my personal things would not be harmful.  I have never been so
embarrassed, or felt so betrayed in my entire life.  I suggest you make up
with your parents, and soon, because I do not wish to see you or any of
your things when I wake up tomorrow."
	"Ly-"
	"Good night!"  I turned around and walked out.  He called my name
again but I ignored him.  I walked quickly up to my room with my head high
in the air, but as soon as I closed the door, I fell down, and cried myself
to sleep on the floor.
	When I woke up, my entire body was sore.  I decided to use the hot
tub.  I went downstairs, and when I passed by the kitchen I saw Patrick in
it.
	"What the hell are you still doing here?"
	"Lyle I have nowhere to go.  I--I hoped you would have changed your
mind by this morning.  Please give me a chance to make it up to you."
	"No.  Get out."  I walked away and got into the hot tub.  A minute
later, Patrick walked in.
	"Please Lyle, I really don't have anywhere to go."
	"Then you shouldn't have invaded my privacy."
	"No, you're right, I shouldn't have, but really Lyle, I don't care
if you're gay.  You said yesterday that you were embarrassed, but you had
nothing to be embarrassed about."
	"I don't recall mentioning that I'm gay."
	"Right, I meant bi-sexual.  But I don't care, it doesn't change the
way I see you at all.  And I, of all people, should not have done what I
did.  My parents read my journal, and I have very personal things in it as
well.  That's what we fought about.  I was angry at them for reading it,
and they did not see what the big problem was."  This caused me to start
crying.  This time, it was not just tears running down my face.  I was
actually crying.
	"Then why did you do the same thing to me?"
	"I don't know!  I told you I was just curious, and it was wrong,
but I did it.  I wasn't thinking, I'm sorry.  Look, I promise I'll make it
up to you."
	"How much exactly did you read?"
	"Everything actually.  I was re-reading one when you came in."
	"Everything," I said quietly to myself.  "That's just perfect."
	"And you're not uncomfortable with your staying here?"
	"No, why would I be?"
	"Why would you be?  So you didn't read everything."
	"I did, and if you're attracted to me, then you're attracted to
me."  At that point, he was standing a small distance away from the hot
tub.  He approached from behind where I was sitting.  "And maybe," he
continued, "we can use that to your advantage."  As soon as he said that, I
felt is hands on my shoulders, and he began giving me a massage.  He leaned
over, and while doing so, ran his hands down my chest, stomach, and then
across my legs, stopping at the knees.  He took his hands out, took off his
shirt and sat opposite me.  He spread my legs apart, and then took hold of
my swimming trunks and removed them.
	"Wait," I said.  "You don't have to do this."
	"I know," he replied.  With his right hand, he began stroking my
penis.  He did it very slowly, and gently, and I closed my eyes.  "Just
guide me," he said.
	"Faster, and harder please."  He gradually increased the pace,
stroking harder and harder, until I felt the seamen flying out of my penis.
He removed his hand, and I opened my eyes.  He stood up, and I saw his
swimming trunks sticking to his erect penis.
	"Would you like help with that?"  I asked.
	"With what?"
	"Nothing."
	"I'll go make breakfast."  He was speaking very matter-of-factly,
but I do not blame him.  He must have been very uncomfortable with what he
had just done.  After he left, I went back to my room, took a shower and
put on clean clothes.  I returned to the kitchen just as he had gotten
breakfast ready.
	"You're quite a good cook," I said.
	"Thank-you, it's a hobby.  Do you cook?"
	"Only easy things."
	"I lied this morning, when I said I had nowhere to go.  I, I'm
going to return home.  I've called a taxi already, I'm expecting it an
about an hour.  I lied because I didn't want to leave with us on bad
terms."
	"So you're leaving?  Then why go through all the trouble?"
	"Because, I actually do like you, and I feel terrible for what I've
done."
	"I want you to stay Patrick.  Despite everything that's been going
on, I have been having a lot of fun."
	"I'm afraid it's too late to cancel the taxi, but what I could do
is go home, and then drive back up here, that way I would have a car, and
it would make things much easier for when I need to go home later, and I
wouldn't have to ask you for rides anywhere."
	"Alright, you don't have to of course, but if you want to, umm,
would you like some company?"
	"Yeah, come!  It's so long I'll be bored to death if you don't."
	We drove all day to get to his house, and then all night to get
back to my cottage.  I ended up driving the second half, because Patrick
was falling asleep.  I did not mind though.  He had a BMW Z8, and so
driving was a lot of fun.  When we arrived back, he could hardly make it up
the stairs by himself.  I helped him into bed, and then came down to write.

Monday, July 3, 2001

	In my entire life I have never been so happy.  This does not mean
that I have been running around like a giddy schoolgirl, but for once, I
have some completeness in my life.  I never realized the importance of
having friends until now.  I always thought that nothing could make me
happier than getting good grades and writing, but falling in love is
certainly above everything else.

I hardly had any need for sleep, and I woke up very early.  I went for a
long swim, and then took a long bath.  By the time I was finished, Patrick
was up and I offered to make breakfast.  It was a beautiful day, and we
spent the day swimming and sunbathing on the beach.  He was not the least
bit uncomfortable around me, despite what he had found out about my
feelings towards him.  I was glad for this, because if he was at all
uncomfortable, I would have seen it and I would have felt embarrassed every
time I was with him.  Instead, the time passed very quickly, and the more
time we spent with each other, the more our friendship grew.

Tuesday July 4, 2001

	"There's something I have to tell you," Patrick said.  We had eaten
breakfast and were heading down to the beach.
	"What is it?"
	"Let's sit down first."  I did not need to ask that.  He was
obviously telling me what happened between his parents and him.  The warm,
soft sand gave both of us a sense of comfort, and I'm sure this made it
easier for him to open up.  "I probably wouldn't have gotten so upset at my
parents reading my journal if it wasn't for what's in it.  Umm, well, its,
I don't know how to say this."
	"It's alright Patrick.  If you can't tell me, then I can wait.
Some other time will be fine."
	"No, no I want to tell you.  Basically, if you were to read it, you
would find a lot of the same stuff as in yours."  It took me a minute to
understand exactly what he meant by this.
	"You mean you're gay?"
	"Well, yeah."
	"Oh."  I did not know what to say to this.  There had to be more to
the story, otherwise I'm sure he would have told me this earlier.  "Well
what did your parents say?"
	"Well, they called me to talk to me, and they said they had found
my journal and read it, and then they said that I should have talked to
them about it."
	"So they were ok with it?"
	"I guess so, I mean they said they were, and they haven't given me
reason to believe that they're not.  I just got mad, and I started yelling
at them, and the argument just escalated from there."
	"Oh, well they said you should have talked to them about it, was it
just that or was there something else?"
	"It was just that, but ever since I discovered that I was gay, I
had a hard time dealing with it.  I never wanted to tell anybody, and
denying it just put a lot of pressure on me.  I've tried dating girls and
stuff, hoping that it would just go away, and I've been miserable.  That's
the stuff they said I could have talked to them about."
	"Well you're not the only one going through that."
	"I know, but it can't be as bad for you, I mean you have so much
going for you.  The way you feel about writing I mean.  You have something
in your life.  I have nothing."
	"That can't be true, you have friends don't you?  And family."
	"Yeah, but it isn't the same."
	"Yes it is the same.  It's hard to keep it a secret because it
becomes something you want to tell people, but don't because you don't know
how they will react.  Why don't you go over and talk to your parents later
today.  I'll come with you if you want.  You know, if you hadn't been so
stubborn, I would have let what you did ruin our relationship.  You would
have left and we probably would have never seen each other again.  You
shouldn't do the same thing with your parents."
	"I don't know if I'm ready to talk to them yet, but I'm glad I'm
here with you.  I'm attracted to you as well."
	"I noticed."
	"How?"
	"Well in the hot tub, when you had an erection.  Any straight guy
would have been disgusted after doing something like that."
	"So you've known since then?"
	"No.  I just figured that you were sitting in a hot tub, the water
was quite warm, and you were doing something sexual, so I assumed that's
why it happened.  See if you were gay I assumed you would have told me by
then, so I gave up all hope."
	"I'll take you up on the offer you made that day.  Better late than
never right?"  As soon as he said this, I pushed him over so that he was
lying down with his knees up in the air.  I slowly pulled his legs out so
he was lying flat, and then I lay on top of him, and started kissing him.
I moved my body so that our erect penises were rubbing against each other.
Our tongues caressed each other, and feeling his wet lips on mine was like
a taste of heaven.
	I stopped kissing his lips, and moved down to his neck.  He had
just showered, and he smelled like strawberries.  I stopped kissing his
neck and raised my body.  I touched his left nipple with my hand, and then
I furiously put my mouth over it and started sucking on it.  While I was
doing this, I moved my hands down the side of his upper body until they
reached his shorts.  I stopped kissing him, got off him and pulled his
shorts off.  His penis was sticking straight up in the air, and had a
little bit of cum on the tip.  I licked it off, and then explored the rest
of it with my tongue.  I saw that he could not control himself any longer,
and I began to suck.  His body moved up and down while I did it, and then
he had an orgasm, filling my mouth with his warm cum.
	He was not one for wasting time, and when I was finished, he jumped
up and pushed me down on the sand.  He quickly ripped off my shorts to
reveal my erect penis, and he sucked hard, until I had an orgasm in his
mouth.
	He then lay down beside me, and put his hand on my stomach.  I
turned to him, looked into his eyes, and said the words
	"I love you."
	"Isn't that something you're supposed to say before sex?"  He said.
"That's what gets people in bed."  I did not find humour in this.
	"I'm thirsty," I said.  "I'm going to get something to drink." I
quickly pulled on my shorts and ran back to the cottage.  I did not bother
with the fridge but went straight to my parents' liquor cabinet.  I had
never drunk before, but I saw this as a good time to start.  I got out a
bottle of vodka and went to find a glass.
	"What's the big deal?"  Patrick said coming in behind me.  "Lighten
up ok?  You take everything way too seriously you know?"
	"I do, do I?"  I put the bottle and the glass down.  "You're right.
All I did was tell you that I loved you, that isn't something that should
be taken seriously is it?"
	"That's not what I meant ok?  But come on, if I don't say it back
then you don't have to get all upset.  I was just making a joke, you were
supposed to laugh."
	"You call that a joke?  You're an idiot Patrick.  It wasn't at all
funny; maybe that's why I didn't laugh.  I was trying to have a serious
conversation."





"You're always trying to have a serious conversation!  You're an old man!
I read your journal ok?  You think you don't have friends because you're
shy?  You don't have any friends because of the way you dress, and the way
you act.  You're seventeen.  You're supposed to be partying, and, I don't
know, drinking!"  He pointed at the bottle on the counter when he said
that.  "Even my dad is cooler than you are!  He loosens up once in a
while!"  I was trying my best to hold back tears, but a few of them
escaped, and I felt them running down my face.  I was crying because
Patrick was right, but I was not ready to acknowledge it.
	"So what?  What's wrong with being mature?  So is that what you do?
Party?  Hang out with friends?  I'd like to see how far that will get you.
At least my life has meaning!"
	"Meaning?  What meaning?  You write some stupid stories and you
call that a life.  Then I come along and you think 'oh look I have a
friend.  I'll tell him I love him!'  You don't have a life, you're totally
pathetic.  Take my advice and loosen up.  Seriously, otherwise you'll end
up dying alone.  Enjoy your summer." He walked off.
	"Where are you going?"  I yelled before he could leave the kitchen.
"I'm going home.  I'm going to get my things and I'm going home.  I have
friends there who I can have some fun with."  He knew that I had nothing
left to say, and so he left.  I sat down at the table.
	"He's right," I thought to myself.  "Look at how I talk, and dress.
Everybody wears a uniform, at my school, but some people have baggy pants,
and earrings, and cool hair.  I dress like an old man!  And look at what I
drive!  I could have gotten any car I want and I got a car that I've only
seen old people drive, and look at Patrick, he has a sports car.  And with
my free time, I write stupid stories, when I should be out watching movies
and going to clubs.  But what's wrong with what I do?  I enjoy my life."
That was when confusion kicked in.  I did not know how I should have been,
or what I wanted, or anything.  I could not make a decision about whether
or not he was right.  I looked up and saw the vodka on the counter.
Without thinking, I poured a rather large shot and gulped it down.  I got a
head rush, but felt fine immediately after.  Just then, I heard Patrick
bringing his suitcase down the stairs.  I ran out to him.
	"Patrick, Patrick wait, please don't go."
	"Lyle, if I stay the same thing is going to happen again.  This
isn't going to work.  You'll never be able to loosen up, and I can't deal
with your seriousness all the time.  It's best if I just leave."


	"Fine!"  I shouted.  "If you feel that way than leave.  I hope I
never see you again."  His face fell when I said that, but he continued on
his way and left.  The change of expression on his face took a minute to
sink into my mind, and then I realized the mistake I had made.  I ran
upstairs, quickly put a shirt on, and ran outside.  He was sitting in his
car with the engine running, but he had not yet left.  He looked nice
sitting in his car.  The top was down, and his blonde hair was flying with
the wind, and the sunglasses he was wearing gave a sense of mystery to his
face.
	"Patrick wait!"  I yelled.






"Thanks for your hospitality Lyle," he yelled back sarcastically.  He
waved, spun his tires and took off.  I ran back to my car, started it up
and drove after him.  I had always been a very careful, and slow driver,
and so I had never gotten a proper idea of how much power my car really
had.  I caught up to him quickly, and flashed my lights, indicating to him
that I wanted him to pull over.  He was not interested in talking to me,
and he sped up.  I followed him very closely through the curves of the
twisted road.  I decided to drive alongside him.  I pressed the accelerator
even harder, and went into the oncoming lane.  It did not take long for me
to match his speed.  I opened my windows and looked at him.
	"Can I please talk to you?"  I shouted at him through the window.
He suddenly had a horrified expression on his face, and he pointed ahead of
him.  I looked ahead, and there was a car speeding towards me.  I did not
have time to think, and the alcohol had dimmed all capacity.  Instead of
swerving to the right, I swerved to the left.  I felt my car crashing
through the guardrail, and then falling a short distance, for what seemed
like an eternity.
	When I woke up, I was lying in my bed.  Patrick was sitting on a
chair, looking at me.  I suddenly felt a lot of pain in different places on
my body.
	"What happened?"  I asked groggily.  I did not have a hangover; I
did not drink enough for that, so my head must have been hurting from the
impact.  Slowly, the events came back to me.
	"My car!  What happened to my car?"
	"Shh, shh."  Patrick said.  He got up and gently put my had back on
the pillow.  "Don't worry about your car right now," he said.  "Are you
alright?"
	"I'm in a lot of pain," I said.
	"Where does it hurt?"  I named the places, and he told me what was
wrong with each one - it was either a bruise or a cut.
	"You're really lucky you know.  You weren't wearing a seatbelt, and
nothing's broken.  You got away with cuts and bruises."
	"I was drinking Patrick."
	"What?"
	"That vodka.  I had some before I came after you.  Well it was
before I knew I was coming after you, and what if I had hit you?  If
anything happened to you I couldn't forgive myself.  Oh my God, and what
about that other car?"
	"The other car was fine, you missed it.  The driver stopped and
helped me with you.  She's downstairs.  Her name is Francine.  She's really
pretty."
	"Not Francine Taylor right?"
	"I don't know, I didn't ask her."  I heard a knock at the door.
"Come in," said Patrick.
	"No!"  I said.  Luckily, she did not hear me and came in.  "Speak
of the devil," Patrick said.
	"How is he?"
	"Awake," I said.  "And I'm fine, Francine."
	"Oh Lyle, I was so worried.  Thank God you woke up."  It was
Francine Taylor.  She was in my French class.  We went on a date once, and
decided never to do it again.  That part, of course, was my own fault.  I
was so nervous I did not know what to say or how to act, and I came across
as a complete idiot.
	It was for the better anyway.  After that date, she spread a nasty
rumour about me.  She said that I slept with some teacher for marks.  It
was not the rumour itself that was so horrible, but the fact that many
people had trouble letting it go and I was teased constantly about it.
	"Why didn't you guys call an ambulance?"
	"Because," Francine said, "it would have taken ages to get one out
here, and you seemed alright, we just didn't bother."
	"She didn't bother," Patrick said.  "I wanted to, she insisted we
just bring you back here."
	"Thank-you Francine, its nice to know that you care."
	"There's no need for that!"  She exclaimed.  "After all you were
driving in my lane!"
	"It's too bad I didn't hit you," I said.  "What would your dad have
said if he found out you destroyed his Mercedes."
	"You haven't changed at all have you?  Look Patrick, I have to go.
He's ok now, and, well, bye."
	"You're not going anywhere," he said to her.
	"What?"
	"I didn't mean it that way.  Please don't leave.  Just go
downstairs and make some tea or something."
	"Excuse me, this is my house, I didn't invite her to have tea.  Let
her leave."
	"Don't listen to him," Patrick told her.  "Just wait downstairs for
a minute ok?"  She stuck her nose in the air and left the room.
	"Did I miss something?"  Patrick asked me.  I told him about what
happened between her and me.
	"Oh God, she did that?"  He said.  "Listen Lyle, what happened was
my fault, and I'm sorry.  I should have stayed and talked to you."
	"No, it wasn't."
	"Yes, yes it was.  I've been a jerk ever since I met you.  The way
I spoke to you yesterday was uncalled for.  And there's nothing wrong with
the way you are.  I wouldn't like you any other way."  I managed a little
smile when he said this, and he became at least somewhat relieved.
	"Anyway, can you just get her out of here?"
	"No Lyle, the-"
	"Fine then I'll do it."  I tried getting out of bed, but it proved
too painful.
	"Lyle what are you doing?  Just listen to me for a second."  I gave
in.  "The road we were driving on doesn't go anywhere except your co-"
	"My cottage.  So what?"
	"Well Francine was on it.  She must have been heading up here, and
I think you should find out why before getting rid of her."
	"Look Patrick, I can't deal with this right now.  And my car too,
what happened to it?"
	"Well it's still there.  It flipped over, but your side window
didn't break because it was rolled down.  Obviously we didn't flip it over,
but from what we could see it's still in pretty good shape.  I don't think
there's more than a dent or two, and it definitely needs re- painting.
Forget it ok?  I'll call a tow-truck later and I'll get it fixed for you,
nobody even has to know.  Now are you hungry or anything?  Do you want to
sleep?"
	"No, but tea sounds good.  Just please go make sure she's not doing
something stupid like setting the kitchen on fire."
	"I heard that," Francine said, walking into my room with a tray.
She sat on the edge of my bed, and looked at Patrick."
	"Well Lyle, you'll be ok with her for a while right?  I'll go see
what I can do about your car."
	"Can't that wait Patrick?"
	"No," said Francine.  "It's a good idea, I mean we can't leave your
car there forever can we?"  Patrick left.

"How do you like it?"  She asked.  The way she said that, and the way she
was sitting reminded me of why I was so nervous when we went out.  She was
intelligent and refined.  I looked at her, sitting on the edge of my bed
with perfect posture, pouring tea, and I suddenly felt an urge to touch
her.  Instead, I told her how I wanted my tea.
	"What are you doing here?"  I asked her.
	"I heard about your house," she said.  "And I wanted to see how you
were doing.  It took me a while but I finally found out you were here.  I
tried calling you, but it said that the number didn't exist, so I came up
here.  Let me help you sit up."
	She helped prop up pillows so that I could sit up.  I did so, very
painfully, and the covers slipped off. I saw that I was wearing nothing
except a pair of shorts.  I quickly pulled the covers back over myself.
	"Ah, yes, I remember the shyness."
	"You drove all the way up here to see how I was doing?"
	"Is that so hard to believe?"
	"After what you did, yes."
	"Are you talking about that stupid rumour?"  Tears quickly formed
in my eyes, and I wiped them.  "Look, I'm sorry about that, I was angry, I
thought you didn't like me, I mean you were horrible to me on that date."
	"I was nervous, I didn't know how I was supposed to act, and I
messed up.  That thing you started got me in a lot of trouble."
	"What?  No it didn't, what are you talking about?"
	"Yes, it did.  Nobody knew what happened after that.  Everybody
enjoyed making fun of me about it, but Mrs. Fenwick, the teacher I
allegedly slept with found out, and then the headmaster found out.  I was
blamed for the whole thing, and Mrs. Fenwick who already hates everyone
hated me even more.  My mark dropped by about twenty per cent in that
class, and I had detention for two weeks or something.  Besides that, my
parents found out about it and grounded me for a month."
	"So?  You never do anything anyway."
	"You know you're right.  I don't do I?  Is that why you came?  To
point out that my life is pathetic?  Mission accomplished."
	"I came so you wouldn't be alone on your birthday."
	"My birthday isn't today."
	"No, but its tomorrow isn't it?"
	"Yes.  But as you saw, Patrick's here with me, I wouldn't have been
alone."
	"What's the deal with Patrick anyway?"
	"What do you mean?"  Did she know?
	"Like where did you meet him, how long have you been friends?"
	"Oh, well just a few days ago, he brought his boat over to my
beach, he was out of petrol and he needed to borrow some.  He ended up
staying with me for a bit.  What makes you think I would have wanted to
spend my birthday with you?"
	"Would you have rather been here alone?"
	"Yes."
	"Well that's too bad, because I'm staying.  It's a long drive home
and I'm not doing it today."
	"I need to use the bathroom."
	"Right, well let me give you a hand."
	"I was actually hoping you would leave."
	"You can't do anything in the condition you're in, trust me."  She
helped me out of bed, and that act helped me see a side of her I had never
seen before.  She did it in such a gentle, and caring manner that I felt
horrible for being unfriendly just now.
	"Thank-you," I said, when I was standing.  "I think I can manage
now."
	"Are you sure?"  She asked.
	"Yes, I'm sure.  I'm fine, just stiff.  I'm going to have a bath,
and I'll be fine."
	"Alright, just call me if you need anything, I'll go keep Patrick
company."
	"I'll call Patrick then," I said.  She left my room.  "Close the
door behind you please."  I sat down on the bed and took off my shorts.  I
slowly walked into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror.  I was
very dirty, but other than that I did not look too bad.  I had a few
bruises that would not take too long to heal, and some cuts that would heal
quickly as well.  I ran a hot bath, and soaked in the bathtub.  I washed my
hair, and combed it instead of putting gel.  I felt much better afterwards,
and because of my hair, I looked much more carefree, which was the look I
was going for.  I had enough of being told that my life is pathetic for one
day.  I put on swimming trunks and a shirt.  I was not planning on swimming
of course, but that was all I brought.  My bruises still hurt a bit, but I
was able to move around with no problem.
	I went downstairs, and Patrick and Francine were talking to each
other over tea.
	"Lyle!  How are you feeling?"  Asked Patrick.
	"Much better, thanks."
	"Are you hungry Lyle?"  Francine asked.  "I was going to go pick up
some dinner."
	"Good," I said.  "Maybe you can find a hotel too.  I have
groceries, I'm going to cook."
	"Umm, you should probably take it easy," Patrick said.  He gave
Francine directions to the nearest town, and lent her his cell phone in
case she got lost.
	"I have call display," I said.  "Don't think I'll be picking it up
if you call."  They ignored me.
	"Just get whatever you find," Patrick told her.  "And are you sure
you don't want me to go instead?"
	"No," Francine said.  "I'm not wanted here, I may as well go."
	"Yes, she has the right idea," I said to Patrick.  She left and I
sat down with Patrick on the couch.
	"You know she likes you a lot," Patrick said.  "I'm sure she's
sorry for what she did."
	"So you're suggesting I go out with her?"
	"Well if you want, but I was actually suggesting that you get along
with her.  The rumour was supposed to be a joke, she feels terrible about
it."
	"Well so do I."
	"She's really pretty, I think you should give her another chance."
	"How would you know?"
	"Lyle, I don't-"
	"I told you yesterday that I loved you.  Like you said, I wasn't
trying to get you into bed.  If we can't be together, then that's another
matter, but I certainly want nothing to do with Francine."
	"Well she's a lovely person, I think you should at least be
friends."
	"Can we talk about something else?"
	"Alright.  I called a friend.  They're towing your car tomorrow
morning, then they're going to fix it, and then they're going to call your
cell phone, and we have to pick it up when its ready."
	"I may not have enough money left, I mean I spent a lot of what my
parents left me, and I still have to live here the rest of the summer."
	"It's alright, I have plenty.  It's the least I could do.  I know
you're about to argue but don't, if you don't have enough, and you want to
pay me back later, we'll worry about it then alright?"
	"Thanks, but I have more than enough.  I just wanted to see if you
would lend it to me or not."
	"Very clever.  Is everything still hurting?"
	"The bruises are a bit, and I'm a bit sore, but I'll be fine in a
couple of days."
	Francine arrived back a couple of hours later, and we ate.
	"You don't mind sleeping on the floor do you?"  I asked her.
	"Lyle stop it!"  Patrick said.  "This place is huge, it has like
fifty bedrooms."
	"Alright, come on I'll make up your room."
	"Lyle don't worry, I can do it myself," she said.
	"But you don't know where anything is."  Patrick, Francine and me
made up her room together, then Patrick helped me get into bed, and he
brought me my journal.
	"In case you want to write," he said.  He put it down on the night
table, leaned over and kissed me quickly on the lips.  "Good night.  And by
the way, I love you too."
	"What?  Then what was all the fuss about earlier?"
	"When you told me you loved me," Patrick said, "I was going to say
it back.  I was just making a little joke first, and then you left, and I
didn't have an opportunity after that to say it back."
	"Oh Patrick, I'm sorry."
	"It's alright.  I'll see you in the morning."
	"Wait, what's with you telling me to give Francine a chance if you
want to be with me."
	"I want you to be happy," he said.  "That's what my whole speech
was about earlier.  I mean whatever I told you that you should be doing,
those are the things that I enjoy doing and I enjoy life because that's the
way I am.  It's different for you, and there's nothing wrong with that.
About Francine, well, I don't know if the two of us could ever really be
happy together, and I know you're attracted to women as well, and I figured
that if things work out between the two of you, you'll probably have a
really good life together.  I don't know if I'm right or not, but I did not
want to stop you if that's something that will make you happy."
	"Thanks Patrick, I really appreciate that.  Good night."  He
smiled, and went to bed.  Ever since I have known him, I have thought him
to be very self-centred, but he is not.  He is the most wonderful person I
know, but then Francine measures up quite nicely.  She came all the way
over here so that I would not be alone on my birthday.

Wednesday, July 5th, 2001

I was tired, but I went to sleep happy last night.  Patrick loved me, and
there was no way anything in my life would ever be better than the moment
when I first heard him say it.
	I was exhausted from the events of the previous day, and so I woke
up late, and of I was sore.  I forced myself out of bed, took a long bath,
got dressed and went downstairs.  Francine and Patrick were waiting for me
in the kitchen.  They had a cupcake with a candle in it.  Patrick lit it
when he saw me, and they sang happy birthday.
	I sat down while they were singing.
	"Make a wish," Patrick said.  I looked at him, and then I looked at
Francine, who was smiling in a way that said, "what do you really want?
Wish for it."  My wish was that I could make up my mind.  I blew out the
candle, and they clapped.
	A gift suddenly appeared.
	"Francine you really didn't have to."


"Yes, yes, just open it."  It was an envelope, so I assumed it was money.
I took out the card.  It read "Happy birthday Lyle.  Love, Francine."  It
was not very verbose, but it meant more to me than any silly things she
could have written in it.  What remained in the envelope was a piece of
paper.  I took it out, and glanced at Francine before reading it.  It
seemed as if she could hardly contain her excitement.  I read the letter.
It was from a publisher.
	"You, you sent my stories in?"
	"Yes," she said.  "The publisher loved them."
	"Isn't that illegal?  I mean I didn't give you permission."
	"Well, kind of, but I had a friend, and I explained that I wanted
it to be a surprise.  Of course they can't do anything unless you approve,
which I hope you will, because everything you've written is amazing."
	"I never showed you any of my stories."
	"Right, well never mind about tha-"
	"How did you get them?"
	"Remember that party your parents threw a few months ago?"
	"No, I wasn't there."
	"I know, but I was.  Anyway there was nobody else my age there, so
I was bored.  I told your mother that I needed some notes for a class, and
asked if I could go to your room to look for them.  I went into your
computer and found the stories.  I liked them, so I made copies."
	"What is with the two of you and privacy?"
	"What do you mean?"  She asked.
	"Never mind.  So you have copies?  I thought they were gone, you
know the fire and all."
	"Yes, I do.  Unless you had others."
	"No, no, just what was in the computer.  How did you even know they
were there?"
	"Remember our date?  I asked you what your hobbies were, you
mentioned it."
	"Well thank-you, it's a wonderful present."  I hugged her, and then
looked at Patrick.
	"Congratulations," he said, somewhat sadly.  "Umm, this is a bit
embarrassing, I didn't really know it was your birthday until last night."
	"Well I didn't tell you.  Don't worry about it Patrick."
	"I'm just kidding.  I read your journal you idiot."
	"You have a journal?"  Francine asked.  "Can I read it?"
	"Absolutely not!"  I said.
	"Well he got to."
	"Yes well too bad."  Patrick gave me his present.  It was a
carrying case for my computer.
	"I noticed you didn't have one," he said.  "I know it isn't the
greatest present in the world, but-"
	"What?  Don't be silly I love it."
	"Then why are you crying?"  I was crying.

	"Just because, I don't know.  I'm just happy, thank-you both."  I
felt like they were both competing for me, and it was true for Patrick.
Francine did not realize that she had competition, which she actually did
not, because I was not planning on choosing them based on who gave a better
present.
	"Well stop it and eat your cupcake," Francine said.  "I want to go
to the beach, I only have today here."
	"Francine, I'm sorry for the way I've been acting, I want you to
stay as long as you want."
	"No, I don't want to impose.  I didn't realize Patrick was here
when I came down."
	"Don't leave on my account," Patrick said.  "I love having you
here."
	"Yes, Francine, please stay."
	"Alright, I think I might.  I'm just going to go change."  Patrick
spoke as soon as she left.
	"If you choose her, or neither of us, well, I won't be mad.  I
don't ever want anything to ruin our friendship."
	"Alright Patrick, nothing will then."
	"Lyle, umm, well do you like her?"  I looked into his desperate
eyes.  I did not know what to tell him, because I did not know how I felt.
	"Yes Patrick, I do, but I just don't know how much.  What I do know
is that I love you."  He smiled.
	"We should head down to the beach, she should be there by now."
	"Yeah, let's go."  We arrived at the beach, and she was there
putting sunscreen.
	"Who's up for a swim?"  She asked.
	"I don't think I can," I said, but you two go ahead.  I'm in the
middle of this great book I'd love a chance to finish it."
	"What?  No Lyle!  It's your birthday, we can swim later, what do
you want to do?"
	"I want to read my book.  I'm serious, you two go ahead, I insist."
	"Well, alright," said Patrick.  "We won't be too long."
	"No," said Francine.  "We'll be back soon."
	"Please take your time," I said.  I watched the two of them very
closely.  Francine took off her clothes and was wearing a black bikini
underneath.  She had long, blonde hair and large brown eyes.  Her body did
not have an ounce of fat on it, and her skin was glistening in the sun.
	When I watched Patrick, he too had a wonderful body.  His muscles
were nicely toned, and his pink nipples were a nice contrast to his white
skin.  When they were ready, they both ran into the lake.  I watched them
while pretending to read.  They were having a great time.  Patrick did the
same thing he did with me.  They splashed around, swam after each other and
took frequent breaks to have little conversations.  I was becoming quite
jealous of her.  Did that mean I wanted Patrick?
	We spent the rest of the day at the beach, and then Patrick and
Francine cooked a sumptuous dinner.
	"This is delicious," I said to them.
	"Give credit where it's due, France did most of the work."  So he
had started calling her France.  If he was not gay, I would think he was
trying to take my girlfriend.  Of course she was not my girlfriend, and now
I was being jealous of him.
	"How come you never call me France?"  She asked me.  "I like it you
know."
	"Well, from now on I will then.  By the way Patrick, while you were
swimming, I got a call about my car.  They said there was not too much
damage, and it would just be a couple of days.  I got an estimate; I have
more than enough for it.  Thanks for all the trouble."
	"It was my pleasure," he said.
	"And France, I'm calling the publisher tomorrow.  I'm giving them
approval to publish my stories.  Thanks for sending them in."
	"Oh that's great," she said.  "Patrick, have you read any of them?"
	"No, he doesn't have them anymore, remember?"
	"Oh that's right.  Lyle remind me to give them to you sometime.  I
don't have them with me though, but when we go back."
	"Thanks, I will."
	Patrick baked a wonderful cake, and they went through a lot of
trouble decorating it.  They sang happy birthday a second time, and we ate
it.  After dinner, the three of us watched a movie together.
	"I'm dead," Patrick said.  "I think I'm going to bed."
	"But it's so early!"  I said.  "Can't you stay longer?"
	"If I do, I'll fall asleep."
	"No matter," said France.  "It'll give us a chance to catch up.
Good night Patrick."
	They deviously smiled at each other.
	"Good night," I said.
	"Happy birthday," was his response.
	"Wait Patrick, I'll walk you upstairs.  I'll be right back France."
	"What?  You don't have to walk me upstairs!  I'm fine, stay here.
Good night."  He walked away, leaving me alone with her.
	"Well," I said.  "What would you like to do now?"  She leaned over,
kissed my neck, and then looked at me questioningly, as if to ask me
whether or not I liked it.  I stared back into her eyes for a moment, and
before I could do anything, she closed her eyes and pressed her lips onto
mine.
	I stopped thinking, and kissed her back.  She put her hand on my
bare leg, close to my knee, and slowly moved it into my shorts.  She found
my penis, and began stroking it.  My mind switched back on, and I pushed
her away.
	"What is it?"  She asked.
	"I'm sorry, I don't think I can do this."
	"Oh.  There's nothing to be sorry about.  I understand."
	"No, you don't.  It's not that I don't want to be with you, but
there's someone else, and it wouldn't be right if you and I, well, you
know."
	"Right, someone else, fine, let's just change the subject ok?"
	"Of course, I forgot, I'm too big of a loser, how can there be
someone else?"
	"That's not what I meant."
	"I know that's not what you meant.  You're beautiful, and smart,
and classy, and, well, you're actually perfect for me, so trust me, I would
not turn you down for anything short of my being in love with someone
else."  I could see by her face that she would not believe me, and that she
wanted to be left alone.  "I think I'm going to turn in as well.  Thank-you
for the present, and for dinner, and for coming."
	"Happy birthday."  I went up to my room, and got out my journal.  I
did not, however, open it.
	"No, it's out of the question."  I thought to myself.  "But I guess
it's the only way.  If she really cares about me, she won't tell anybody.
But what if she doesn't?  But she does, I could see it in her eyes."
	I got out my old journal from the drawer, and went over to her
room.  She had not yet come up, and her bed was made.  I placed the
journals on top of it, and went to Patrick's room.  I opened the door
slowly, and peeked inside to see if he was asleep.
	"France?"
	"No Patrick, it's me."
	"Lyle, come in."  I entered and closed the door.  He turned on the
lamp beside his bed and sat up.  I sat down next to him on the edge of the
bed.
	"How did it go with Francine?"
	"What do you mean?"
	"Well I'm sure you figured out why I left the two of you alone."
	"Yes Patrick, I did.  And I made my decision."  I placed my hand
around his waist, leaned over and kissed him.

* * * *

	Luckily for me, the story had a natural ending.  I tend to get
carried away with things like this, and if I had my way I would have
continued with the rest of their lives.  But what happened with the rest of
their lives?
	Not too long after Lyle left, Francine went up to her room.  She
turned on the light, and the first thing she saw were the journals on her
bed.  Francine then made herself comfortable, and stayed up the entire
night reading them.
	She got up very late the next morning, and not finding Lyle and
Patrick in the house, she concluded that they had gone down to the beach.
She headed for the beach, and a worried look came over Lyle's face when he
saw her.
	She ignored him, and walked up to Patrick.
	"Congratulations," she said to him, and walked back to the cottage.
	"I'll explain in a minute," Lyle said to him, and followed her.
	"I take it you read them," I said.
	"Well that is why you left them there isn't it?"
	"Yes, yes of course it was."
	"Look Lyle, I have to go.  This whole thing was stupid, I should
never have come down here."
	"Come on France, nobody wants you to go.  You and Patrick were
getting on so well, and I like having you around too."
	"Lyle I don't know if I can.  Seeing the two of you together, I
just don't think I can take that.  I mean you know how I feel about you, so
put yourself in my shoes."
	"France, you're too mature to let something like that get to you.
I know that if you wanted to, you could stay and have a good time with us.
However, you know yourself best.  If I'm wrong and you can't stay, then
perhaps it is best that you go, but before you do, I am very grateful for
everything you've done, so thank-you."
	Francine did end up staying, and the three of them became very
close friends.  Unfortunately, Lyle and Patrick never got over their fear
of people finding out that they were gay, and so they never told anybody.
They were together their whole lives, but they lived separately, so nobody
would ever suspect.
	Francine never stopped loving Lyle, but she was able to move on.
She got married and had children, and lived a happy life.  Out of the three
of them, she also lived the longest life.  Lyle passed on first, and then
Patrick, not too long afterwards.  Francine was devastated during this
time, but she was consoled by the fact that they died of natural causes,
but mostly because they died happy.
	Both of them, in their wills, specifically mentioned that they
wanted their journals to go to Francine, and so they did.  She kept them
close to her own, and close to her heart.  After she died, her husband was
too upset to read them, but because they were hers, he did not want to
throw them away, so he shut them away in a box.  That is at least my guess
as to what happened.  I am assuming he did not read them because if he had,
he surely would have destroyed them.  It would not have been easy for him
to find out that his wife loved another man.  And so the story ends, but I
cannot help but wonder how different the ending would have been had Lyle
chosen Francine instead.