Date: Mon, 26 Sep 2005 16:40:46 -0500
From: M Logan <mlogan6969@hotmail.com>
Subject: By The Way - chapter 6

By The Way
Chapter 6

Let's see how far I can get...

*	*	*	*

I was just starting to doze off when Dr. McCoy came back into the room.  I
never really heard him because I was still listening to my walkman.  Mainly
I sensed a presence standing over me.  I opened my eyes and tilted my head
up a bit.  He whipped his whopper out and placed it on my nose!

Just kidding.

"How are you doing?" he asked.

"Well, my hips and legs are a bit stiff from not being able to move them,
but otherwise I'm alright."

"Good," he said, walking over to the pump.  He looked at it and said, "Just
a few more minutes and you'll be all done.  We'll take the catheters out of
your feet and you'll be on your way to the c.t. scan."

I nodded and looked back up at the ceiling.  I had the overwhelming urge to
stretch my legs but knew that was a 'no-no'.  Why do hospitals have to be
so friggin' cold?  My dick turtled up so much I think it turned into a
vagina for a few minutes.  Maybe if I put my thumb in my mouth and blew I
could pop it my wang back out.  Nope.  Didn't work.

A few minutes went by and Dr. Humpme (oops – McCoy.  Dammit!) came back in.
He placed his hand on my thigh and said, well to tell you the truth, I'm
not sure.  I was concentrating on keeping my pecker turtled up.  In those
awful cotton negligees they give you any stirring of the wang would've
caused attention.  Plus he had a nurse with him and I didn't want to gross
her out.  Soon thereafter he removed the catheters from my feet and put
bandages on them.

"Paul, don't be surprised if your urine is a little discolored," he told
me.

"Excuse me?"

"It might be a little bit green when you use the restroom."

"Goody gumdrops!" I said, to which he laughed.  "Soon I'll be taking a
nuclear (NOT nucular) piss," at which he laughed even harder.

"I'll see you after the c.t. scan."

I was wheeled down to a room and the c.t. scan performed.  No big whup.
Dr.  McCoy said that it looked pretty good but that Dr. Goodstein would go
over it in detail.  From what he could tell all of my lymph nodes looked
normal.

Thank God.

*	*	*	*

Dr. Goodstein confirmed it.  All of my lymph nodes were normal.  Whew!  The
next thing that he was concerned about was that scar tissue he'd seen in my
lungs.  This meant more surgery.  Great!  More needles.  More cutting.
Another oxygen mask.  The thing that tripped me out about the original
removal of the enlarged lymph node that started it all was when you're
lying there on the operating table and you feel like your almost in la- la
land.  You're lying on your back looking up at the ceiling and here comes
the oxygen mask.  If I were more conscious I would have panicked but I
couldn't do anything.  It feels extremely claustrophobic, and I certainly
wasn't looking forward to that again.

Luckily I wasn't able to schedule the lung biopsy for another four weeks.
It was summer and I needed to relax.  Panama City, here I come!

Do y'all remember George Heaney from my junior Spanish class?  Well he and
I started working together at a local movie theater some time after high
school.  Actually, he'd worked there for around six months before I got
hired on.  During our senior year we never had another class together so I
really had no opportunity to be around him.  But like I said, we started
working together in '88.  He and I became really good friends, as did Glen
and I.  I'll get into that a little bit more later.

At the end of '88 George had signed up to serve in the Air Force.  I was
sad that he was going because we'd had a lot of opportunities to hang
around each other; we worked a lot of the same shifts and hung out with the
same group of people after work.  He really started to turn to me and see
me as a really good friend.  When it looked like he and his girlfriend
would be breaking up (please! The writing was on the wall) once he started
boot camp, he confided to me with teary eyes how it tore him up inside.  We
were upstairs in the projection booth and he sat there on the floor sobbing
somewhat.  I sat down beside him and just put my arm around him.  Finally
after he was finished we headed back around to the projectors so I could
finish threading up or shutting down the machines.  Things like that.

George and I always had fun together and became really close, really fast.
He was just a stand up guy.

Right after he was done with boot camp and came home on leave for a few
days in February of '89 we all decided to celebrate his graduation from
whatever school he'd be attending in Florida, by going to Panama City that
summer.  By "we all" I mean a group of about six to seven of us guys.  A
few of us worked together at the theater, and everyone of them, except for
George and I, were together in the band during high school.  I actually
think that it was my idea to do some kind of road trip.  One of the guys,
this dude named Brad, offered up his parents condo.  Awesome!  Everything
was settled and we planned on heading down in July.  Yeah it was a long way
off but George was only home for a few days so we picked the time.  I'm
sure that sort of eagerness to go to the beach and drink isn't uncommon for
teenagers.  Duh!  So the trip was set.

Or so I thought.

Shit, I can't do this.  This god damned flashback nonsense is fuckin' with
me.  Let's see, where did I leave off...

*	*	*	*

Yeah, Don asked me if I wanted to spend the night.  Then he complimented my
haircut which was a little odd, but ok, we were both wasted.  I wasn't
exactly a sexual swinger so I had no idea what should happen next.  He
never took his eyes off of me.  I, on the other hand, took an inventory of
everything in the room.

"Well?" he asked.

"Let me call my folks," I said, staggering over to the phone.

Don just laughed.  "It's funny seeing you this way.  Out of control."  I
rolled my eyes at him as I dialed home and let my parents know I wasn't
coming home.

We drank a little bit more then watched some television.  I was really
feeling great but couldn't get the haircut comment out of my head.  I just
kept watch on his package, which looked really edible.  I fantasized about
crawling over to him and just letting nature take it's course, but I
didn't.  Damn!  Even though I was drunk I was able to understand that I
really loved him.  Was it a crush?  Mmmmm.  Maybe.  I knew that I felt so
damn protected around him.  But I didn't feel like a weepy female or damsel
in distress.  He treated me with respect and we joked about anything and
everything all of the time.  I felt like his equal.

After dozing on the couch I felt him nudge me awake.

"I'm headin' up.  You comin'?" he said.

"Mmm hmmm," I replied in my nice warm Uncle Tom Collins buzz.  He just
smiled as I slowly got off of the couch.

"We need to do this again," he said, still smiling.

"Yeah, 'cause you like my haircut."

He laughed out loud at that.

*	*	*	*

We had many summer nights like that.  A few times I invited him to stay
over but he never would.  Maybe it's because he had two beds in his room as
opposed to my one, and he didn't want to sleep on the floor.  But that was
fine with me because it gave us the opportunity to get drunk, or buzzed.
My parents never really were drinkers and there was no liquor in our house,
unlike his.

One night he told me we had a mission.  A friend of his wanted a traffic
sign of any type to hang on their wall when they went to college in the
fall.  So a-signing we would go!  There were some railroad tracks not too
far from his house and there was this big ol' fat- ass sign describing some
sort of zoning change.  Had to have it!  Don't worry, it wasn't like a stop
sign or anything like that.  He had the socket wrench and we unbolted the
sign from the post.  I was carrying this sign that was probably three feet
high by four feet wide across Ponce De Leon when all of a sudden we saw
headlights in the distance.
  I ran as fast as I could, laughing my ass off the whole time at the
ridiculousness of the situation.  Altogether that night I think we ended up
jacking seven or eight signs.  Several times they were so high that I had
to sit on his shoulders while I unbolted them from their posts.  Luckily he
drove a big-ass Delta Eighty-Eight and the trunk could hold about a dozen
or so midgets, so the signs weren't a problem.

Sometimes I'd go over to his house during the day time and we'd just hang
out.  I should have seen some signs about him then, and here's why.  A few
times he'd pinch me hard or give me a playful shove so I'd start chasing
him.  Around the house he ran with me right at his heels.  We always ended
up in either his parents' room or his flopping onto the bed out of breath.
Looking back I realize now what he was doing.  He was trying to see how far
I'd take the playing.

That summer also found me hanging out with Charles a lot.  He and I had
become really good friends during our chemistry class as well as at Kroger.
A few times we'd go out drinking together, but not that often.  Charles was
also a camp counselor at some camp in Tennessee for about three weeks.
When he finally came back I hung out at his house until 3:30 in the morning
before going home.  That didn't fare-thee-well with the parents.  I was
grounded for a week from everything except work. Big shit.  Oddly enough
the next day my mom asked me if I'd like to go up to New York to visit my
family for a week.  I jumped at the chance.  So much for grounding.
Apparently Eastern (remember them?) was having a really cheap air fare
special and my parents thought I might like to see everyone.  Cool beans.

The whole week up there I spent with my grandparents and my cousins.  I was
a hit with them because I was old enough to drive in Georgia, so I could
drive in New York as well.  The time not visiting with them I had one
person on my mind.  Any guesses?  Well it wasn't Queen Latifah!  I was
having a great time but I couldn't get back soon enough.

Once I got back home Don and I hooked up for some typical teenaged drunken
fun.  Whatever that is.  That's when he broke the news to me.

"Paul did I tell you that I ended up getting that scholarship?" he said
matter-of-factly.

"Um, what scholarship?"  I had absolutely no idea what he was talking
about.

"Well," he chuckled, "the only one I could ever get; baseball."

"Cool!  Is that at Tech or U.G.A.?" I asked.  Either one was cool because
Tech was in downtown Atlanta, and U.G.A. was in Athens and only about an
hour and a half away.  But he named a college I'd never heard of.  For
privacy I'll keep the name out of the story, but I asked him "Where's
that?"

"It's in North Carolina [actually, a different state].  There's a minor
league team there that's a farm for the [blanks]."

"Wow."  I could tell he was excited but I sure wasn't.  I left to go fix
myself another drink.  The kitchen overlooked the den and I could feel him
watching me.  "What?" I asked, looking up at him.

"Is that all you've got to say?  'Wow'?"

"You're right," I tried to sound happy but I couldn't.  "I'm...happy for
you."
  I kept myself distracted with the drink ingredients.

"Gee, thanks Lyons."  The only time he called me by my last name was when
he was irritated or trying to get my attention.

"Well Don, what did you expect?  You're leaving.  I'm glad, and all that
you won the scholarship but I'm not thrilled about you leaving.  It's
just..." but I let it go at that.

"It's just what?"

"Nothing," I said.

"No, no, man.  Don't bullshit me.  You were about to say something.  What
was it?"

I put my hands on the edge of the counter and leaned against it a little
bit.  Smiling a bit I said, "I don't want to sound like a puss."

He snorted at that.  "Come on man.  What?"

"Man, this is, like, the first time I've had a really...well...a best
friend since I was, what, nine?"

"Big deal.  That's only seven years ago."

I laughed.  "Idiot.  I'll just leave it at this: I'm just gonna miss the
shit out of you, that's all."  Inside I was feeling miserable.  "I have fun
when we just-"

"Drink and hang out," he interrupted.

"Yep.  Well, not just when we drink.  I just hate to see you leave."  I
looked down at the drink I was making.

Don came around the counter and grabbed some whiskey from the bar.  "Come
on man, it's not like I'm leaving tomorrow," he said nudging my shoulder
with his, playfully.

I just laughed and rolled my eyes.  "Dork."

"Yep.  We still have plenty of time to...play around," he said.

I turned and looked at him.  "Oh really," I said.

"There's lots more liquor where this came from.  Drink up Paulie."

I held my glass up in a mock toast.  "To baseball."

"Huh.  Yeah," he said.

That night I drank a little more than usual.  Or maybe my inhibitions were
a little lower because of the alcohol.  Or maybe I got drunk quicker
because of the mood change.  I know that we'd only really known each other
for a couple of years but Don and I were pretty much hanging out all of the
time.  Granted, he had a few friends that he'd play basketball with or
whatever, but I was the one that he always called to see what was up, did I
want to head out and do something, et cetera.

There was some damn song playing on the radio and Don had gone upstairs to
get something.  While he was gone I started singing along with the music.
Of course I'd been drinking so I sang it a bit louder than I needed to.
Drunks have no self control.  I think it was a Dolly Parton song playing on
the country station.  Anyway, I heard the creaking of the wood stairs under
his weight as he came back downstairs.

"Hey man, that was pretty good," he said.

"What was?"

"The song."

"Yeah.  I like Dolly," I said.

"No.  I mean your singing.  It sounded pretty good."

"Thanks," I laughed, embarrassed.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"I just hate my voice, that's all," I laughed again.

"Why?  I thought you sounded pretty good."

I rolled my eyes and smiled.  "Well, thank you."

"Come on," he said, slapping my knee, "let's go."

"Wher're we goin'?"

"You'll see.  I want to show you something."

"Well alright!" I said, under the glow of a great buzz.

He and I piled into the Eighty-Eight and headed towards Ponce, then took a
right and headed east.

"Where are we going?" I asked again.

"Shut up, Paul," he said.

"Dick."

"Prick."

"Fuck you."

"You wish."

"You're right."  Oh shit!  Did I say that out loud?

"Excuuuuse me?"

I laughed out loud.  "I meant to say 'you wish' back."

"Uh huh."

"Oh, screw you," I laughed.  He laughed too.  For some reason whenever Don
drove after we'd been drinking, which was a lot, he always seemed to sober
up.  I'm sure that wasn't the reality of it.  We always assume that we can
drive after we've had some to drink.  In fact, several times I thought I'd
even driven better.  What a rocket scientist.

We got to Stone Mountain Village and then headed into Stone Mountain Park.
It was pretty late at night but the gates were still open.  Almost everyone
who lived near Stone Mountain had an annual parking permit.  It's just
something you did.  Don was no exception, and we pulled into the gate and
turned right.  If you've never been to the park it's a really nice place.
At least it was twenty years ago.  I haven't been back since '87 so I'm not
sure if it's deteriorated like the rest of DeKalb County, but I've heard it
hasn't.

Back to the park.

Stone Mountain is the largest exposed granite formation on the face of the
planet.  Yes, this factoid is the truth.  Jillions of years ago volcanic
pressure beneath the layer of granite (which by the way extends throughout
Georgia and into Tennessee, South and North Carolina, parts of Alabama and
Florida) started forcing the granite slowly from beneath the ground into
the form that it now holds.  Originally it was called New Gibraltar, back
before the Civil War (or the War of Northern Aggression).  Then someone
thought that the name Stone Mountain would be better.  Not as though it's
redundant, right?

At one point the mountain and all of the park land surround it was
privately owned by the Venable family.  If you've ever been in the Klan (as
in Ku Klux) you probably know of this name.  Old Man Venable, who was still
around when I was working at Kroger, was once a leader.  I'm not sure when
but at some point his family sold the mountain and all of the acreage
surrounding it to the state of Georgia for the purposes of creating Stone
Mountain Park.  During the 20's or 30's Gutsom Borglum was hired to create
a carving on the mountain face honoring the memory of the Confederacy.  His
design included the figures of Robert E. Lee, Jefferson Davis and Stonewall
Jackson all riding horseback.

The work stopped when the money well went dry.  Then Mr. Borglum went north
a few states and designed and carved that little bitty statue known as
Mount Rushmore.  Work on Stone Mountain didn't resume until the 60's and
the finished carving is a beautiful work of art.  It's the size of three
football fields and a car can drive down the back of Lee's horse.  Now
that's a carving!

There was a pretty big lake that wrapped around the mountain, camping, a
water park, boats you could rent, paddle boats you could ride on; just a
whole bunch of stuff you can do.  Don was heading in the direction of the
fishing hut.  If you've been there you know what I'm talking about.  It's
about a half of a mile from the entry gates, and he turned into the parking
lot and stopped the car.

"Let's go!" he said.

"Go?  Where?" I asked.  I was still in a bit of a buzz but it was slowly
clearing out of my head.

"You'll see," was all he said.

We started walking towards the mountain and crossed the main roadway that
wound around it.  It was late July and the nights in Atlanta are still
pretty warm and muggy.  It was a full moon, though, and there wasn't a
cloud in the sky so we had no problem seeing where we were going.  Don and
I cut through some woods and were soon on the railroad tracks.  One of the
attractions at the park is an old fashioned train ride.  Just before the
ride ends the train stops and gets held up at some silly,
cartoonish-looking western village and the outlaws and the sheriff and
deputies have a gun fight, in and off the train.  We followed the tracks a
little bit.  It was kind of neat because I'd never been to the park this
late at night with basically nobody around.

The moonlight gleamed on the rails and the tall southern pines cast crisp
shadows along the ground where we walked.  There was a little bit of a
breeze but hardly a sound, other than the crickets.  The moonlight
reflected off of the mountain somewhat, which was to our left.  In the
distance you could see the silhouettes of the fake village and then Don
left the tracks and hopped onto a low rise which headed up to the mountain.

The actual carving is on what I call the "front" side; on the "rear" is
this western village where the gunfights are held.  If you're looking at
the front of the mountain it sort of resembles every four-year-olds'
drawing of a whale, with the tall steep slope on the left and then
gradually sloping down to the right.  On the right side of the mountain is
the 1.5 mile trail that you can walk up to the top.  Or you could take a
cable car.  If you were on top and got too close to the left edge,
well...God bless you and hope you have a parachute!

Don and I were starting up the back side of the mountain.  How appropriate.
The backside.  But I digress.  The normal trail up the mountain is just a
continuous, low grade that takes you about thirty minutes or so to walk up.
Where we were had many slope changes and pockets of trees.  In some places
you could walk upright, like Sasquatch, and in others you had to lean
forward and sort of walk up using your fingertips to hold you steady.

I don't know if it was the adrenaline but in no time my buzz was gone.  Of
course it could have been the view of Don's nicely muscled ass in front of
me, but who knows.  We didn't talk much and Don seemed to be on a mission;
we never really paused for a break, not that we really needed one.  The
mountain isn't that high.

As we were climbing we got to a part that was steeper than the other parts.
Don was still ahead of me.  My foot hit some loose gravel and my feet slid
out from under me.  I pressed myself as close to the surface as I could and
was barely holding on with my fingertips.  Don heard me grunt and stopped
to look down under his arms at me.

"You okay?" he asked.

I held my breath for a second.  "I'm not sure I can move."

He turned around and slid down on his ass toward me.  "Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm just...if I move I'll slide down."  Now granted, the mountain
wasn't killer steep here, but I know if I lost my grip I'd slide down about
thirty feet or so to the nearest ledge.

Don reached me and with his feet on one side of my head he leaned over a
bit, extending his hand.  "Take it," he said.

I looked into his eyes for a second, not wanting to move for fear I'd slip.
Then in a flash I reached out and grabbed his hand.  He pulled me up toward
him and I was able to steady myself on the granite surface.  "Thanks," I
breathed.

"Mm hm."

We stayed there for a second, him on his fine ass, me on all fours next to
him.  "Let's go," I said.

"You sure?  We can wait if you want."

"No.  Take me where you want," I said.

He raised an eyebrow.  "Oh really..."

"Shut up, you goof," I laughed.

He laughed and turned around, then proceeded up the mountain.  I followed
behind and then finally we came to a place in the mountain where there was
about a ten foot by thirty foot flat area.  There were pine trees at one
end of it, but the other was barren.  All around us the mountain reflected
the light of the full moon.  The air was a bit cooler up here and there was
a slight breeze as well.  On this side of the mountain you could see over
the treetops to the more rural area of Stone Mountain, as well as the whole
downtown Atlanta skyline.  It was absolutely beautiful at night.

"Wow!"  I said looking over at him.

"Tell me about it.  I love it up here."

"I do too, now that I'm finally here.  I've never been up here at night."

"You should be up here in the winter.  It's really windy, but it's great,"
he said.

"I'll bet."  I put my hands behind my head and lay back against the
mountain, pretty much still in a sitting position.

"Can you imagine what it must've looked like from up here, watching the
Yankees marching from Atlanta, here?" he said.

"I can only imagine," I said.  "I wonder if you could hear the marching;
the men talking-"

"The pillaging," he interrupted.

"Really."

We lay there, next to each other, way above the tops of the yellow pines.
It's amazing what a little moonlight can do.  We didn't talk that much at
first.  Don and I just sat there looking around the North Georgia piedmont.
For miles.

"So what would you like to do, Paul?" Don asked after a long, comfortable
silence.

"What do you mean?"

"What do you want to do?" he repeated.

I took a deep breath and looked away out of the corner of my eyes.  "Do?"

"In life.  After high school.  Do you still want to go to architecture
school?"

"Ah.  I guess."

"You guess?  Dude, in four weeks you'll be starting your senior year.  You
better do more than guess," he laughed.

I smiled back at him.  "Well, there's always the architecture thing.  I've
wanted that since I can remember."  I thought about this some.  "Actually I
think I'd much rather build houses or renovate them.  I know I'm supposed
to go to college but I'm not sure if that's the road for me."

"You can always sing," he said.

I had to laugh out loud at that.

"What?" he asked.

"Me?  Sing?" I said incredulously.  "Quit smoking crack."  I smiled and lay
back against the mountain.

"Well, I thought you were pretty good tonight."

"I was pretty loaded, pal," I laughed.  He just shrugged.  "To tell you the
truth I hate the sound of my voice."

"Well, you can hit the notes from what I could tell.  Have you thought of
taking voice lessons or something?"

I hadn't and I said so.  We sat there for a few more minutes in the quite
moonlight.  I was dying to lean over and...well, I didn't know what.  I
knew I wanted something, and it involved him being naked.  This was such a
romantic place.  Well, it was beautiful and maybe I was getting romantic
notions in my head.

"So the baseball..." I started.

"Yeah?"

"I know you love it and all.  Do you think you'll be able to make a career
out of it?  I mean, from what everyone says you're an awesome shortstop.
Do you think that you'll make it to the majors?"

"That'd be my dream.  My dad says that I'm fuckin' crazy to dream like
that."  He got silent.

I turned to look at him.  "Maybe I'm steppin' out of line, here, but you're
dad doesn't really know you."  I was a bit shocked that I'd said that.  It
was one thing to listen to his problems, but his parents were still his
parents and I'd never really said anything negative against them.

Don just turned and looked at the scene around us.  "No.  You're right.  He
doesn't."

"So then what's the deal?  You go to the school and play on the minor
team?"

"Yeah," he nodded, "then if I'm lucky, really lucky, there'll be a scout
who spots me.  But most guys get spotted; nothing comes of it."

"Well, you just gotta do your best, I guess.  Can't get there if you don't
try, right?"

He nodded.  "I'm sorry to just drop it on you out of the blue," he said.

This time I shrugged.  My feelings for him were pinging all over the damn
place.  On one hand he was my best friend and I loved him because of it.
On the other hand I was really attracted to him.  On the third hand, maybe
I had strong feelings for the guy and thought they were love because I'd
never been this close to someone before.  The whole emotion thing kind of
sucked.  And now he'd be leaving to go off to school in a few weeks.

"As long as we can keep in touch," I told him.

"Oh, hell yeah, man."

More comfortable silence as we watched some traffic in the distance.

"This'd be the perfect place to make love," he said.

"Excuuuse me?" I laughed.  "I didn't bring a rubber."

He busted out laughing at that.  "Seriously though, look at this," he said,
gesturing around us.  "You take your wife up here or girlfriend."

"I don't have one of those," I reminded him.

"Me neither," he laughed, looking over at me.

I smiled and shook my head, turning back to look at the skyline.  We sat
there for about fifteen more minutes.  It was getting late and the air was
getting just a bit cooler, a slow and steady breeze blowing through the
needles of the pine trees.  The smell of the pine trees wafted through the
air as the moon rose higher in the sky.  This was one of those moments that
I'd never forget.

Sighing, Don said, "Dude, we'd better get back before it's way too late."

"Ok," I said.  I stood up and started heading back down the way we came up.

"No, let's go this way," and he headed in the direction of the main trail.
Once we got there it was pretty easy trudging back down the mountain.
About thirty minutes later we were walking back on the train tracks in the
direction of the fishing hut.

Without saying a word we climbed into the big-ass car and he drove the rest
of the way around the park, through the picnic areas, back over the dam and
through the campgrounds.  I was saddened to see the granite guardhouse as
we left the park and headed back toward the village.  I knew that we still
had a few weeks to go before college started for him and my last year of
high school began, but I couldn't help feeling like I was just at the end
of an era.  It's a moment of maturation for people, when that happens, but
I was wanting to resist it as much as possible.

*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*	*

Well y'all, what are you thinking so far?  Are you liking things?  Just let
me know.

Mark

mlogan6969@hotmail.com