Date: Wed, 20 Oct 1999 02:28:02 -0500
From: Matt <mnhunter@midsouth.rr.com>
Subject: Search and Rescue 11

This is part eleven of my continuing story.  If you read my last
installment before I corrected it, the last part should make more sense now
if you look at it.  I also fixed my continuity problem with what room they
were in :)

If you'll bear with me for just a moment, there are some people I'd like to
thank.

First of all, David at Nifty, I am so sorry that I keep me pestering you to
swap files when I screw up.  As for my other nifty friends, I definitely
need to say hello to EG, whose "Adam-Zach-and-BSB" has been an inspiration.
I should also thank him for not spilling the beans :) Now, if he would just
proofread my stuff for me, David could cancel that hit on me.  There are so
many other wonderful people out there.  To my longtime friends Alec, Kevin,
"Lucky" Lauren, Firesong, Matthew VP, Tonny (who says so much when he says
"Nothing"), Scotty-in-Shining-Armor, and of course, the irrepressible
"Busta" himself, Yuli, you guys (and gals, to be fair :), have become a
very important part of my life as a writer.  I count on you all to be there
for that encouraging word or reality check, as the situation dictates.
Then there are newer members of my circle of friends, like Jared, Jeff,
Denny, and the ever-enlightening Tom, all of whom have become my faithful
companions on this endeavor.  I appreciate you all giving my story (and me)
a chance.  I hope it was worth it.  That, without saying, applies to
everyone who's ever read any of the stories on the archive, so thank you if
I've been fortunate enough to be one of them.

D, what can I say?  My days are always that much brighter when I see that
return address in my e-mail.  I've come to rely very much on you as a
writer, a cohort, and most importantly, as a friend, so thank you as well.

Now, if you've made it through all of my waxing sentimental, there's just
one more thing to deal with before we get to the story . . . .

WARNING: This story is sexually-explicit (or at least getting there),
involving homosexuality.  Do not continue if this will offend you.  If
accessing this story causes you to break local laws, please leave now.  By
continuing , you implicitly declare and affirm under penalties of perjury
that you are not a minor or in the company of a minor and are entitled to
have access to sexually-explicit material.  The content and opinions
expressed in this story do not imply anything with regards to the sexual
preferences of anyone mentioned herein.  It is a work of fiction entirely
(though a guy can dream, can't he?).  Having said that, enjoy the story.



CHAPTER ELEVEN

	I walked quickly down the hall, never once daring to look back,
afraid that I would lose my resolve entirely.  Storming out the front door,
I slammed it behind me, trying to let my actions clearly express what I was
feeling.  The only problem with that was I didn't know what I was feeling.
I just knew I had to get out.  I almost ran to the car, tears streaming
down my face and my hands shaking with anger and fear.  I nearly collapsed
when I realized my mistake.

	I mentally kicked myself, since I could only stare at the car, my
keys being on the dining room table.  I wasn't about to go back in there,
because I wasn't about to face him again.  I couldn't, not yet, so I just
started running, my destination unknown, and entirely irrelevant at the
moment.

	The first rays of the sun hadn't even begun to appear, and after a
while, the streetlights disappeared, leaving me clueless as to where I was.
I stopped for a moment to gather my thoughts and catch my breath.  I hadn't
run full out in . . . only a week or so.  Had it really been so short a
time ago?

	What in the hell was wrong with me?  One week and I had a guy I
barely know living with me.  I haven't been with anyone since school, and
now all of the sudden, I was ready to hop in the sack without hesitation.
Boy, there's a message to send my kids.

	I sat down on the street curb, absent-mindedly running my fingers
through the gravel.  When the girls were born, I had made a decision that I
was going to be a father first.  Everything else came second.  >From the
first moment I was finally able to hold the girls, I had never regretted
it.  By the same token, I knew that my life was complicated.  To simplify
things, I kept busy, too busy for any meaningful relationship.  It was a
convenient way to justify to myself why I was so damn alone.

	I thought all of that had changed with Rich.  He had been my best
friend for so long, that somewhere in my mind, it seemed like a logical
progression when we got involved.  Kathy had the girls while he took me out
to get hammered to try to clear my head after I'd gotten the news, and for
a brief time, it worked, giving me a few hours of normalcy.  That flash of
what might have been meant more than I realized, but when the feeling was
gone, reality set in with a vengeance.

	I sunk into a deep depression, one I'd only known once since.  We
sat on the back of Rich's GTO, and I looked out from the hill for hours
while he slept off his impending hangover.  In those seconds of
contemplation, my resolve faltered.  I slid off the hood of the car and
walked into the water, determined that if this was going to be the outcome,
it was going to be on my terms.

	It seemed like an eternity passed before I finally blacked out.
That horrible choking sensation that overtook me was unlike anything I'd
known.  It would be years before the movie about the Titanic came out, but
once it had, I couldn't bring myself to see it.  I never could overcome the
idea of those minutes, so I never went near the water again.

	Kathy was kind enough to teach the girls how to swim.  I suddenly
thought of how much a mother figure Kathy had been all these years, the
only real maternal influence they'd had.  Even though she joked about how
much the concept of "being a dairy source and linen service" revolted her,
I was positive that if she was pregnant that some child had just been dealt
a full house by fate.

	My memories flooded back to me, tearing me from the present again,
and I felt blood running down my back.  Then came an intense pain square in
the middle of my chest and a burning in my lungs.  A wave of vertigo rushed
to my head, similar to feeling of standing up too quickly, only
exponentially more disorienting.  The next thing that registered was Rich's
voice.

	What was I going to do about Josh?  I was in over my head, but I
couldn't figure a way out.  When it started over, I knew I couldn't go
through an encore presentation.  I would rather do it alone than my world
collapse around me like it had with Rich.  God, I could see so much of them
in each other.  That's what scared me most.

	"Don't you dare die on me, you son of a bitch!" Echoed through my
skull as Rich's fist slammed against my breastbone.  I coughed violently,
and water, blood, and everything I'd eaten since Carter was in office
poured forth.  I knew I was dead.

	It was happening again, but this time, it was different.  I'd
fallen head over heels, and the notion was entirely new to me.  With Rich,
it was such a gradual thing.  He'd started as just some freshman who needed
a ride to school.  I knew I loved him the minute I left the school parking
lot and saw him walking in the rain, but romance wouldn't enter the picture
for some time to come.  That wasn't what I felt for him.  Truthfully?  I'm
not sure what I felt.  I didn't know the meaning of the word love yet, and
I sure as hell had no idea it would be in the arms of another man.

	"Damn you, Matt!" My eyes shot open in agony.  It took a few
minutes, but I finally recognized the face staring back at me.  "Thank
God," he panted, before dropping against me, both physically and
emotionally spent.

	How could I be so sure that I loved JC?  This was getting to be too
much.  What was I thinking?  Nevermind, that was a no-brainer--I wasn't
thinking.  I fell so hard, so fast.  I wasn't even sure that I wasn't just
latching on to the first person who'd given enough of a damn about me to
accept me, baggage and all.  I just had no indication that this particular
piece of luggage had surfaced again, now of all times.

	"What the hell were you thinking?" I smiled at the chiseled
features looking down at me; puberty had made a big difference.  The gawky
kid I'd befriended that day in the rain had grown in a very handsome young
man that every girl in school wanted and every guy hated for that same
reason.  "I said what the hell were you thinking?" he repeated.  Past and
present lost their distinction, and the same thought I was now having
passed my lips those years ago, "I wasn't thinking."

	I had left college for obvious reasons, and I came home.  I didn't
even know why.  My mother had died a few years before, and my father and I
were estranged at best.  Ironically, the answer was literally staring me in
the face.  All my friends were off at school, even Kathy had to come home
on break when I told her what was going on.  I had no real family.  That
wasn't entirely true; I had my mom's sister and her kids, but they were
hundreds of miles away.  I guess that deep down I knew it was Rich that had
brought me here.

	Josh hadn't done anything to deserve the way I had just treated
him, but I was more concerned about me at the moment.  My self-preservation
instincts had kicked in, and I wasn't talking about martial arts.  In some
hidden part of me, I hoped that I was at least doing some of this to
protect him.  He didn't need this.  He'd be much better off without me.  It
would be incredibly selfish of me to put this on him at this stage of his
life, or cruelly enough, mine.

	Feeling his warm breath on my face, I threw caution to the wind.
After all, it wasn't that I had that much to lose.  I kissed him, fully
expecting him to hit me, spit on me, tell me how much he hated me, or shout
to the four winds what a freak I was.  But he didn't.  He didn't do any of
those things.


	My little trip down memory lane or my flight of ideas or my nervous
breakdown, whatever it was, was interrupted by a blaring horn.  A quick
assessment of the situation produced no visible light other than the high
beams of a car.  I stood and stepped back from the road to make sure I
didn't wind up a statistic.

	I identified the car as Kathy's.  Rolling my eyes in disgust, I
started running again.  She honked the horn again, but I wouldn't turn to
look at her.  She lowered the passenger window.

	"Matt!" she shouted.

	"I'm not in the mood," I answered curtly, still facing away from
her.

	"You're not in the mood?" she shot back.  "It's 3:30 in the
morning, and instead of getting beauty sleep, I've been scouring the city
for you."

	"Sorry," I said simply.

	"No, you're not," she corrected sharply.

	"I'm not having this conversation with you right now, Kathy.  Go
home."

	"You are going to have this conversation with me right now or
you're going to be a victim of road rage."

	"Fine," I answered sarcastically, "if you want to talk, you run."

	"Hey," she called from the window, "some of us don't run five miles
every morning and night."

	"Then some of us don't want to talk nearly as much as we think we
do," I responded coldly.

	She punched the gas and jerked the wheel.  The nose of her car
drove its way directly in my path.  "Fine," she echoed, throwing the car in
park and leaping from the driver's seat.  "You want to run, we'll run."

	I looked at her with a steaming glance.  I sprung from my stance,
leading with my shoulder, tucking into a ball, rolling off of the hood, and
planting my feet on the pavement opposite of my original position.  I
wasted no time in accelerating to top speed, hoping to lose Kathy, which I
knew wasn't a very likely possibility.

	After about a mile, I knew Kathy was catching up, because I could
hear her cursing me.  I started to smile, but I didn't dare turn and let
her see it.  Her fury pushing her further, she finally got close enough for
me to feel the heat from her breath on my neck.  I was about to slow down
when she shoved me with all her might to the asphalt.

	I slammed face-first onto the road.  The pain was electrifying, and
I contracted in shock, gravel in my eyes and the taste of blood in my
mouth.  I looked up at her, grimacing with rage.  "And what the hell was
that for?"

	"Oh, no, you did not just ask that!  For starters, getting me out
of bed and scaring everyone half to death.  And if that's not enough, for
what you did to JC."

	"Excuse me?" I shot back, confused.

	"I saw his face and the blood in the kitchen and the bathroom.
What the hell were you thinking?"

	Despite how old that question was getting, a flash of realization
waved over me, and I started laughing uncontrollably.  Either the absolute
absurdity of this situation was getting to me, or I really had cracked up.
This just made Kathy even madder.  "Why are you laughing?" she screamed in
frustration.

	I just laughed even harder.  Now, it was her turn to be confused.
I stood and walked to the curb.  Taking a seat, I reached up and wiped my
bleeding nose.  I motioned for her to come sit beside me, and after a few
seconds of deliberation, she did.

	"Do you honestly think I would hit Josh?" I asked, spitting out a
filling that had been jarred loose by the impact.  "You know me better than
that."

	"I thought I did," she admitted, "but I'm not so sure anymore.  I'm
beginning to think I don't know you at all."

	"Join the club," I smiled.  When I saw the serious expression, I
exhaled in defeat, "He hit his head on the kitchen cabinet, and we walked
back to the bathroom so I could bandage him up."

	She nodded in understanding and sat there in silence.  I honestly
think I preferred her yelling at me.  This way made me feel like I was
waiting in the principal's office.

	"So, what are you doing here?" I finally asked.

	"What am I doing here?  I could ask you the same question."

	I just nodded and gave her a half-smile without looking up at her.
"So how did you find me then?"

	"JC called me.  The number is listed in your speed dial, remember?"
I nodded, and she continued, "You have him absolutely terrified.  He
doesn't know what's wrong with you, he doesn't know how to make it better,
and lastly, he doesn't know what he's done to piss in your corn flakes."

	A single tear started to fall, but I brought the palm of my hand up
and wiped it from my eyes before it escaped.  "You wouldn't understand,
Kathy."

	Boy, the minute that came out, I regretted it.  "I WOULDN'T
UNDERSTAND?!?" Before I could even attempt damage control, "You listen to
me, you sanctimonious son-of-a-bitch.  I was there, remember?  I've been
here since the beginning of this hard-knock life you seem to think you're
condemned to."

	"Now, wait just a damn minute!  That's not fair," I shouted back.

	"I hate using clich‚s, but in this case, it fits.  Who the hell
promised you a fair life?  Your life has had a few up moments as well, if
you'll remember.  You have two children who adore you, a job you were born
to do, and a handsome young man who's willing to jeopardize his whole world
to be with you."

	"Look, don't tell me that I should be happy right now, because
. . . ."

	"Then how about I tell you what a complete and utter horse's ass
you're being?"

	"You can't know what it's like . . . ."

	"No, Matt, I can't, but I do know that just because it's back
doesn't mean that you should stop living your life.  You made it before;
you can do it again, but how dare you push away everyone who gives a flying
damn about you."

	"I'm trying to protect him," I weakly explained.

	"For starters, I don't recall him asking for your protection.  It
seemed to me that all he was asking was to be a part of your life.  In the
second place, do you really have the unmitigated gall to sit there and tell
me that you're doing it for him?" I tried to interject, but she hovered in
even closer, pointing her finger inches from my face, daring me to say a
word.  "Well, crawl down off your cross, honey, because nobody is asking
for a martyr--Joan of Arc we don't need.  JC needs the man he fell in love
with, your children need their father, and I need my best friend back, so
if you can pull your ass away from this self-indulgent pity-party, we could
all get on with the business of living."

	I stood so abruptly that she tumbled into the grass beside me.
"Poor fucking choice of words, Kathy!"

	I turned away from her so she couldn't see the gambit of emotions
overwhelming me.  I was furious, with her and with myself, but right now,
it was all I could do to keep my tears from flooding me to a state of
helplessness.  She placed a hand on my shoulder, and I jerked it away.

	She recoiled and dropped her hands to her side in defeat.  "Why
don't you tell him, Matt?"

	"You, of all people, know why."

	"He isn't Rich."

	"How are so sure he won't react the same way?" I screamed, wheeling
around to face her so quickly that she fell to the ground again, startled.
I choked back turmoil that was causing my very hands to shake, and
regaining my composure, I pulled her to her feet and into a hug.

	She whispered softly through her own tears, "How are you so sure he
will?" She pulled back and forced me to look into her eyes and smiling
face, "You haven't given him the chance to prove either of us wrong."

	"I can't go through that, or any of this, again."

	"Honey, you're not being given the option of the bad, so why not
take a chance on the good?"

	"I'm scared Kathy."

	"I know that.  I'm scared for you, but you pulled through before."

	I hung my head down.  "I don't know if I can do it again.  I don't
know if I have it in me anymore."

	She grabbed my cheeks and made a fist with her other.  Still
smiling through her tears, "Hey, if you've got enough of a fight to
antagonize me like this, you've more than still got it."

	I had to smile, but it faded quickly.  "I've been the strong one
all my life.  For a wife, then kids, then my mother . . . ," I couldn't
stammer another syllable.

	"You miss her, don't you?"

	I used the palms of my hands to push the tears off my nose and wipe
them outward, trying to straighten up.  "Yeah, I do.  It's times like this
that she would know exactly what to say and what to do to take the hurt and
the fear away, but she's not here to do that now.  She was the one who took
care of me, even when I was taking care of her during those last months.
I'm tired of taking care of everyone else when there's not anyone to take
care of me when I need it, not anymore."

	"Have you heard anything I've said to you?  You're not in this
alone.  I'm here, Scott's here, the girls are here, and in case you haven't
noticed, JC's here.  If you think that little temper tantrum earlier got
rid of him, you're sorely mistaken, so why don't you give him the
opportunity to be that person who will take care of you?"

	I half-smiled. I said nothing for the longest time, allowing her
words to sink in.  I finally concluded that she just might be right, but
God help me if I was going to tell her so--I'd never hear the end of it.
Defeated, I slumped my shoulders and rolled my eyes towards her.  "So what
do I do now?"

	She snorted, "Like I know, you take care of it." After I surpassed
the initial shock, I actually laughed.  She joined in.  "Let's go home.
There's someone you need to talk to."

	"I do need to talk to him, but I can't tell him everything."

	"Matt, . . . ."

	"I will, just not yet.  Let me do this in my own way."

	"Okay, but I don't like this," she confessed.

	"I know," I assured her.  "I haven't liked much of anything these
past few days, least of all, myself." After just a few seconds, I amended
that statement, "Except him." I was taken aback by the almost Freudian
slip, but when I looked at Kathy, I found that I was alone in that regard,
if no other.

	Kathy put her arm around my shoulder, and we slowly walked back,
watching the morning sun appear over the horizon.  She grabbed my shoulder
just before we reached the car.  "How come you didn't tell me?"

	"Tell you what?"

	"Come on, Matt."

	"It's only been the last two nights.  I was hoping the first one
was a fluke," I stopped my thoughts and my stride.  "You didn't tell Scott,
did you?"

	"No, but what difference would it have made?  He didn't know you
then."

	I raised my eyebrows, "He's a bright guy.  He'll put the puzzle
together given enough pieces.  I'm not ready to tell him anything yet."

	"What about the sweats?"

	"Last night, definitely.  As for tonight, I'm not really sure--it's
kind of a blur."

	"It seems like someone told me I should be sure before I went and
bet the farm," she smiled.

	I cringed, my own words biting me in the ass like that.  "I'll get
checked out, but not just yet.  I need to deal with the other first."

	"Matt, . . . ."

	"Damn it, Kathy, you say I can do this, so please just let me do
it."

	"Okay, we'll do it your way . . . for now."


	We drove back in virtual silence after that.  As we neared the
house, I succumbed to nervous anticipation.  I knew Kathy was right and
that I hadn't been fair to JC, so the questions remained--what would I tell
him and how would he react?

	When we pulled into the driveway, she had to pry me out of the car.
He was standing at the door, waiting.  A quick smile crossed my lips when I
saw that he had thrown my robe over his boxers.  He returned the
expression, so I made my way to him.

	He opened his arms as if to hug me, but instead, he drove his fist
deep into my gut, lifting me off of the ground and knocking all the wind
I'd ever owned out of my lungs.

	"I guess I deserved that," I gasped.

	"You're damn right you did.  That and a lot more.  What the hell is
going on?" he asked, looking first at me, then at Kathy.

	"Don't look at me," she told him, holding her hands up in
surrender.  "Beat it out of him."

	He spun back to face me, and I cut a hard look at her.  "Kathy,
. . . ."

	"Say no more.  I'm going home to bed if you think you two drama
queens can take it from here."

	JC and I laughed as she poured into the driver's seat before
speeding away.  I looked back at his questioning face.  "Let's go inside."


	He dropped into the couch, pulling his legs onto the cushions, and
daringly told me, "Okay, spill it."

	Looking into his face and remembering the hurtful way I had talked
to him earlier, I bowed my head shamefully.  "First and foremost, I want to
say that I'm sorry." I realized that my behavior may not have been the most
terrible thing in the world that could have happened, even if it may have
been justified.  That fact, however, didn't make me feel any better at the
moment.

	"You're sorry for what you said or you're sorry that I'm still
here?"

	"You're not going to make this easy for me, are you?"

	"I'm not going to make this anything."

	I stared at the stern visage before me, looking for some indication
that it was the same one that looked at me with such love just a few hours
ago.  I barely recognized any similarities.  "Josh, my life is complicated,
. . . ."

	"Whose isn't?" he interrupted.

	"Let me finish.  You were right.  What's going on with me isn't
'nothing,' so I'm going to . . . ."

	"But that doesn't explain . . . ."

	"Please, Josh," my turn to interrupt.  "This isn't the first time,
and I guess I felt like I was back at a place in my life that I didn't want
to be."

	"What does that have to do with me?" he cried.

	"On most levels, absolutely nothing, but the last time this
happened was with my first boyfriend."

	"I'm still not following, Matt."

	"Risking oversimplification, when the going got tough, he got going
. . . right out the door and out of my life."

	"I'm not going anywhere," he retorted defiantly.

	"I'm beginning to see that," I smiled both mentally and aloud.  "I
just panicked.  I'm going through a lot, and I don't want to lose you."

	"Then stop pushing me away," he offered, pulling me into a hug,
wrapping his arms around me wholly, so that I had no alternative but to
accept his arms, and him, as my solace.  I began sobbing uncontrollably.

	He softly stroked my hair.  "What is it?" he cooed, brushing my
tears away with the back of his hand.

	"Do you trust me?" I sniffed.

	"Body and soul," he answered unwaveringly.

	"Then I need you to trust that I will tell you.  There are things I
need to be sure of; things that are unrelated to you or how I feel about
you.  When I have all of the answers, I'll give them to you, willingly, I
swear, but until that time, I need to do this alone."

	"But you aren't alone," he adamantly reminded.

	"And I love you for it, but this is the way I have to . . . ," my
voice trailed off, then continuing, ". . . the way I need to do it, if
you'll let me.  I just want you there beside me to remind me of why I'm
doing it."

	He sat there in quiet deliberation for the longest time, looking at
me, then the carpet, and back again.  "Then that's where I'll be," he
finally smiled in understanding.  "As long as you don't come up with
anymore ultimatums like before."

	"Deal," I laughed.

	"Deal, Fidel," he returned, leaning in to kiss my cheek before
hugging me again.  "But I'm not going to quit worrying about you."

	I kissed his cheek in kind.  "I wouldn't expect anything less."
With that, he pulled away from me, but he never once let go of my hand.  He
led me to the bedroom.  I peeled off my clothes and slid between the
sheets.  He dropped my robe to the carpet and moved behind me.  He wrapped
his arms tightly around my own, crossed across my chest, and we fell back
to sleep.


	I woke just a few hours later.  I reached up and placed the back of
my hand on my forehead.  Looking down at my chest, and I realized that I
wasn't heaving "Good," I thought to myself, "at least he won't wake up to
find me like that again." I knew I wasn't going to be able to leave his
questions unanswered for long.  There was no doubt in my mind that endless
possibilities were running through his head, and I'm sure he was expecting
the worst.  It was pretty high up on that shit list, but a smile crossed my
lips when all of the sudden the notion occurred to me that it could be
worse.

	I had beat it before, and I was determined, now, more than ever,
that I would do it again.  Despite my current unemployed status, things
were better now than they had ever been, and there wasn't a snowball's
chance in hell that I was going to be beaten into submission.

	"Enough melodrama for now," I said, bracing myself.  Shaking it
off, I walked into the kitchen, involuntarily shuddering as my feet hit the
cold tile.  I pulled a filter out of the cabinet and placed it in the
basket.  I turned on the faucet, and as it filled, I scooped out what I
needed from the canister.  I pressed the button, and waited for the water
to heat.  As the aroma started to fill the room, I thought to myself, "The
best part of waking up--my ass." Okay, so I wasn't a morning person.

	I grabbed the phone and walked out onto the patio.  "Hey, Cathy,
can you do me a favor?  I need to stop in and get some blood work drawn if
you'd put the lab requisitions in the computer for me."

	When I told her the tests I wanted, I heard dead silence on the
other end of the phone.  I should have called one of the other clerks;
Cathy had been doing this too long, and she knew exactly what was going on.
She started asking questions, and I really didn't have a whole lot of
choice in the matter.  When I asked her to put Scott as the ordering
physician but not to tell him, that didn't exactly go over well.  She
finally agreed, but I knew she wouldn't keep silent for too long.

	I asked her to connect me with radiology.  I talked to David, a
friend of mine, and he begrudgingly told me he'd shoot the films for me.  I
clicked off the phone and brought the antenna to my lips.  I sat there for
a minute, lost in thought, but I snapped out of it.

	I walked back to the freshly brewed coffee and poured a cup, then I
rejoined JC in the bedroom.  I sat in the rocking chair next to bed.  I
smiled to myself when I remembered that my mother had bought it for me when
I brought the girls home.  I hadn't sat in it in years.  I propped my feet
on the mattress and silently sipped while I watched him sleep.

	I sat there long enough that my coffee got cold, and he hadn't even
begun to stir.  I decided to go ahead and grab a shower.  I turned the
knobs and grabbed a towel.  Noticing the clock, I was surprised at how late
it had become.  If I was going to get down to the hospital before David
left, I needed to get moving.

	As the lather stung my eyes, I heard someone entering through the
front door.  I dropped my head under the spray, letting the water rinse my
hair.  I wasn't too concerned.  I knew it had to have been Kathy since the
girls were back at school.  I leisurely finished and dried off.  I wrapped
the towel around my waist and went back to my bedroom.

	The bed was empty.  I grabbed some clothes and joined them both in
the den.  JC was propped up on the couch with a blanket spread atop him,
and Kathy was sitting at the end with his legs propped in her lap.  I
smiled happily that they got along so well.

	"Should I be jealous?" I raised an eyebrow, running my fingers
through my damp hair.

	"You know it," JC smiled back.

	"Hey, get your own pop star; oh, wait, you already have one," I
teased.

	"That's what I came to talk to you about.  I think I should
probably call Kevin and give him a rain check."

	"Why?" I asked.

	"Under the circumstances, JC and I thought it would be best," she
answered.

	"Oh, you do, do you?" I inquired, more than a bit perturbed.
Looking at Kathy, "I thought I was supposed to get on with the business of
living."

	She grimaced.  Apparently, she liked her words being used against
her as much as I did.  "Point taken."

	JC looked at me sympathetically.  "Are you sure?"

	"Absolutely." I turned back to Kathy and smiled, "How soon can they
get here?"

	"Actually, in just a few days.  They have the concert in Denver to
finish up, but after that, they're free for two weeks."

	"That's great," I told her, glad that she and Kevin would have a
chance to talk.

	"Slow down.  As a matter of fact, bring that puppy to a screeching
halt.  I know what you're thinking.  He's staying a week, then he's going
to see Carrie in New York."

	"Are you okay with that?" I asked, visibly concerned.

	"Surprisingly, yes.  I love Kevin very much, and if I can't be for
him when he needs me, I hope she will be that person for him."

	JC sat silent, not wanting to intrude, so for his sake, I changed
the topic.  "So who all's coming?"

	"Well, Nick, Brian and Nate, and him, of course."

	"What about Howie and A.J.?" JC chimed in.

	"Family time," she simply put, and he nodded.

	"Are you sure, Matt?  I want to triple-check before I call him back
and confirm it for sure," she asked again, giving me every opportunity to
change my mind if I wanted to.

	"Will you get the hell out of here and go call him?" I reassured
her, the dimples at the sides of my mouth very pronounced.

	"Will you please take him back to bed?  He's obviously
sexually-repressed," she sarcastically asked as she looked at JC.  The
frankness of her comment had him absolutely mortified.

	I laughed.  Looking at the clock, I realized that the hospital
would have to wait until tomorrow.  "You, go home and call.  You, go get
cleaned up so we can go get dinner," I barked at Kathy and then JC.  He
looked at me funny for a second before shrugging his shoulders and
obediently headed down the hall.

	When I turned my attention back towards Kathy, I noticed her
craning her neck to look past me, watching JC walk down the hall.  "He's
sweet," she smiled, "and what an ass."

	Even as used to Kathy as I was, that one caught me off guard.
"Excuse me," I cleared my throat, "but the only ass I see in here is the
one you're making of yourself, trollop."

	She stuck her tongue out at me and laughed.  I walked her out to
the car, and she hugged my neck tightly.  "Hold on to that one.  He's a
keeper."

	"I know," I smiled back.  "Tell Kevin I look forward to seeing him
so I can tell him everything about you."

	Her mouth flew open.  "You better not."

	I smiled and waved as she pulled out of the driveway.  Barefoot, I
walked out into the grass and pulled some weeds from the flower garden
along the front of the grass.  In honesty, I'm not sure you could call it a
flower garden since every flower I'd planted there had gone the way of the
dodo bird, but the shrubs were doing okay.  I stood there for a while, the
cool breeze chilling me.

	I went back into the house, but before I got settled good, I heard
a knock.  The postman told me that he had a registered letter for me.  I
signed for it and shut the door as JC walked out.  He wrapped his arms
around my waist and rested his chin on my shoulder.  He looked down at the
return address, which I was staring at.

	"Is that your father?" he asked, noticing the last name.

	I patted his hand and stepped away from him as he followed me.  I
walked out to the patio and picked up the lighter I used to light the
charcoal grill.  I ran the flame under the corner of the envelope until I
was sure that it had caught.  I dropped the burning paper into the metal
garbage can.

	"No.  Not anymore."


TO BE CONTINUED . . . . . . . . . . .


As always, feedback is sincerely appreciated.  Please let me know how I'm
doing at mnhunter@midsouth.rr.com.