Date: Wed, 3 Dec 2014 11:37:20 -0500
From: MGTBILL@aol.com
Subject: DYLAN'S SOPHOMORE YEAR Chapter  19

DYLAN'S  SOPHOMORE YEAR


Chapter  19


by  Donny Mumford




Tom and I arrive back at the welcome home party a little after midnight.
Most of the adults have gone home or they're inside the house with Robby's
parents. It's getting chilly so I'm not surprised to see a couple of guys
near  the pool huddled around one of the portable fireplaces. It's Seth and
Cory, so I  say to Tom, "I want to say hello to those guys. I'll meet you in
the pool house  for a beer in a few minutes." He says, "Yeah, sure, I'm
heading home after one  last beer." I nod at him and walk over to see how Seth and
Cory are holding up.  Slapping hands with then, I mumble, "Wassup?" and
then ask, "How you guys  doing?" Seth says, "We're doing great, aren't we,
Cory?" Cory's blushing for  some reason. I ask him, "Um, where's Connor? I
thought you two were bunking at  my place tonight." Cory goes, "Yeah, we were,
but I think Connor's gonna stick  with his army buddy tonight. Seth, me and
Connor were talking and then Dodger  and Vinnie appeared and kinda kidnapped
Connor. They took off about fifteen  minutes ago in Dodger's pickup. I think
they're dropping Vinnie off and then  Connor's gonna spend the night, um,
here with Dodger." I ask, "With Dodger,  huh?" He shrugs, "I guess. That's
what Dodger said anyway and Connor sort of  gave me a look like, 'That's Dodger
being Dodger'. I think he's got a crush on  Dodger and I don't blame him."
Both Seth and Cory are blushing now as Seth says,  "We, um, that is Cory and
me, we were sorta thinking he'd sleep at my apartment  tonight, if it's
okay with you." I go, "If it's okay with me? What the...? You  don't need my
approval guys, whaddaya talking about? You guys are awesomely  great friends
of mine and few things would make me happier than seeing you two,  ah, become
great friends too." I'm rubbing both guy's shoulder roughly so  they'll
know everything's cool, "If it's okay by me... jeez! Ha ha, it's more  than
okay." Cory mumbles, "Thanks, I thought, you know, since you were so nice
letting us stay at your place it'd be rude to change plans." I go, "No way,
Cory. We're good, dude!"


They're still blushing because of the inferred  likelihood of sex in the
future for those two. Cory's repeating himself,  muttering, "Ya know, I said
I'd stay at your place so I don't wanna seem  ungrateful or anything. Seth
didn't think you'd mind, did you Seth?" I chuckle,  "Jeez, Cory, Seth's right.
Don't ever worry about anything like that. It's cool,  man, we're tight!"
Oh boy, one of my wishes might be coming true. If these two  can hit it off
it'd be awesome! Seth mumbles, "I'll give Cory a ride home  tomorrow so I was
thinking, if you don't mind, I'd get a haircut another  weekend?" I go,
"Absolutely, Seth, I'll be home next weekend too. If you're free  I'll see you
then." They glance at each other grinning, as I'm thinking, 'Cory, Connor,
and Seth used to have a crush on me  and now they're getting a crush on each
other. Perfect!' To avoid any  further awkwardness, I say, "Well guys, I'm
gonna say goodnight to the boys  in the pool house. Well, first I'll probably
having a nightcap, and then head  home myself." They  stand up as Seth's
saying, "Well, I guess we'll take  off too," and we hug with kisses on the
cheek and pats on the back as we walk to  the pool house together. Cory asks,
"Should we thank Rob for inviting us? We  already thanked Dodger." I go,
"I'll give him your thanks and tell him you guys  had a good time. No problem."
We exchange more pats on the back and they go  through the gate to Seth's
car that's in the driveway, and I go in the side door  of the pool house with
good feelings that those two might eventually become a  couple. At first I
was worried Cory would be hurt that Connor went with Dodger.  You know, after
they had agreed to sleep together at my place, but it doesn't  appear
that's the case. It's been musical chairs for them tonight, but I'm  guessing
Cory's feeling his chances of finding a boyfriend, or at least a friend  for
occasional buddy sex, are better with Seth than Connor for the simple reason
Connor's going back to the Army in ten days. Seth's staying put. This might
turn  out to be awesome for all three of them, or maybe not... life's hard
to predict.  Anyway, for once everything tonight is working out for me. My
matchmaking  efforts look promising and I've been spared what could have been
an awkward time  with Seth tomorrow.  It's hard for me to say 'no' and
disappoint him, and  now I won't need to.


As soon as I walk into the pool house Robby comes right over to give me a
hug, as he's mumbling, "I'm so sorry about leaving you on the spur of the
moment  like that, Dylan. Dad and me were worried we'd lose important
financial backing  for the business expansion. Jesus, business is so nerve racking."
I ask, "Did it  work out?" He's got a big smiling on his face now, "Oh
yeah, it couldn't have  worked out any better. We're really relieved. These
financial people are  unorthodox; it's not like dealing with an ordinary bank.
They're a group of  friends that formed a dot-com firm together with the sole
purpose of investing  in different businesses they think can be profitable.
They all have regular jobs  so for this business they work unusual hours,
like Saturday nights." I go, "So  they're like silent partners, huh?" He
nods, "Yeah, it's a little more  complicated than that, but that's basically
it." I mumble, "I'm happy for you,  Rob," then I lean in close, saying quietly,
"Our future condo's still in our  plans, huh?" He smiles, "Yep, it'll be
perfect timing for when we get married."  I grin, "Yeah, it's nice to  have a
dream. Ya know, I've been thinking  maybe it's time we have another talk to
revisit our plans for the future. You  can clear up a couple of gray areas
for me. Stuff I've been thinking about." He  looks concerned, "What stuff?
You're not having doubts about getting married,  are you?" Shaking my head
'no', I say, "No, it's not about getting married, Rob,  I love you more than
ever. Some of the details about after we're married maybe need a tweak here or
 there, but you and me will work it out. As far as I'm concerned the only
reason  we wouldn't get married is if you back out of it because I'm not
backing out of  it, you're my man!" Looking dubious, he asks, "What do we need
to rethink? What  needs, um, tweaking? I have it all planned out and you've
agreed with  everything." I say, "Yeah, I know, Rob, but you've said I should
bring up  anything I'm concerned about. It's just that I need clarification
on some  things. Not now though. We probably should have a dinner date at
our favorite  restaurant. That way we can be alone and talk about just us,
you and me, Rob."  He asks, "Um, are you always going to call me 'Rob' now? I
kinda miss hearing  you say, 'Robby'. You gave me that nickname." I smile,
"Rob, Robby, you're my  man, dude." He shakes his head grinning, "I'm your
man... right. Yeah, the  dinner at Dino's Italian Cuisine restaurant with our
favorite waiter, Tony,  sounds like a great idea. I like talking about when
we're married." I go, "It's  a date then. Maybe next Saturday night after
your business meeting." He goes,  "Yeah, definitely. I'm so glad you're coming
home with me next weekend." I lean  in to him and we kiss, but I'm a little
uneasy about the things I'll need to say  at next week's dinner. Nothing I
need to worry about now though. That's a week  away.


As we're kissing I hear Tom yucking it up with his brother and the three
remaining stoner boys. Robby glances at them, then looks back at me and tells
me  what I already know, "Dodger and his army buddy, Connor, are giving
Vinnie a  ride home. Then it looks like Connor gonna have a, um, sleep over
with Dodger."  It hits me now that Vinnie drove here himself. Well, I don't
know what's up with  those three, but as long as they're all happy, I'm happy.
I say, "Oh, yeah? How  do you feel about them sleeping together?" Robby
goes, "Jealous, that's how I  feel. Dodger's not at all as warm towards me as he
was before going in the  army." I ask, "Didn't you tell me early last
summer Dodger was acting moody  before he went in the Army. You know, before he
quit the summer job." Robby  thinks about that, then says, "Yeah, you're
right, it was before he quit. I  began noticing Dodger acting strange towards me
even before he lost his mind and  joined the army. I'm so disappointed in
him for enlisting. It really upset my  parents. It hasn't been like the old
days between Dodger and me for a few months  now." I go, "Huh. Maybe it's
just growing pains. He's not a kid anymore, but  didn't you say you started
noticing a difference in him after we came out of the  closet together?" He
shakes his head, "I don't know. It's been like a subtle  change, a gradual
thing, but maybe it has something to do with us 'coming out'.  I didn't tell you
this before, but since we're discussing my brother I'll tell  you now.  I
didn't feel much enthusiasm from him about being my best man at  our wedding.
Certainly not like I expected. Of course he was in the Army so we  were
communicating mostly by text. I could have lost something in translation
because of that, but  to me he definitely seemed distant when I told him  about
proposing marriage to you." Hmmm, I think I'll leave this topic for our
dinner together. A couple of cocktails might make it easier to discuss certain
things, not that I have any intention of telling Robby what Dodger said to
me.  That wouldn't help their relationship at all. Robby looks around, then
leans in  and conspiratorially whispers, "Just between you and me, I think
Connor's got a  'thing' for my brother. He better be careful though or Vinnie
will scratch his  eyes out... ha ha." I chuckle, muttering, "Let's hope they
can all take care of  themselves. Dodger will probably manage the situation
pretty well, don't ya  think?" Robby's like, "Ha, yeah he probably will,
he's awesome like that."  Awesome is a word we overuse, but what are ya gonna
do, it's a good  word?


Tom, his brother, and the three unnamed stoner boys come over to say
goodbye. There are many compliments from Tom interspersed with his goodbye, and
we all wind up doing one arm hugs and exchanging, "Nice to have met you," or
 words to that effect with each other. Tom gives me a meaningful look and a
 slight head nod on his way out the door. Now it's just Robby and me. He
goes, "I  couldn't find you when I first got back from the business meeting. I
wondered  where you were." I say, "Oh, I was with Tom. We took a ride to
one of his  father's businesses. His dad owns like twenty-five UPS Stores. Did
you know  they're rich?" Which doesn't tell Robby what he wants to know,
but it isn't a  lie." I can tell he wants to ask more, so to head him off, I
ask, "I was  wondering how come you didn't invite anyone from the baseball
team to the  welcome home party?" I don't need to mention Danny Monday's name
specifically  because I know that's who Robby will think of first. He goes,
"My teammates? Um,  no, this was a private affair. Ah, lets grab another
beer. Do you want another  beer?" I say, "Yes, definitely, and a cigarette
too." At the keg Robby takes two  fresh plastic cups from the stack of cups and
begins pouring beer, saying,  "Being around Cory cuts down on everyone's
smoking. Should we stop smoking  before we get married? I mean the smell of
cigarette smoke sinks into furniture  and carpets." I say, "Definitely, we'll
quit, or if we don't quit right away we  just won't smoke in the house." As
long as Rob and me are having sex on the side  there's going to be awkward
moments like we had a minute ago when he wondered  where I was. Rob obviously
wanted to know why I was with Tom looking at his  father's UPS shop, and I
don't blame him.  To counter that I brought up the  inference of Danny
Monday, who Robby's probably bopping. Occasional awkwardness  is the price we pay
for being oversexed. He understands the dynamics of the  situation as well
as I do. Robby and I touch cups, saying, "To us," and as we  swallow some
bitter beer Chubby comes bounding in the door. "Dylan! Robby! What  are you two
awesome guys up to?" Robby says, "The question is, Chubby, what were  you
and Marlene up to? My innocent girl neighbor in the clutches of Don Juan
Romero. It'll probably be in the local paper." Chubby laughs, then says, "She's
 a good talker, your neighbor," and we chuckle. Chubby is not the bragging,
kiss  and tell kind of guy.


Chubby pours himself a cup of beer as Robby and I light up cigarettes.
Chubby says, "Actually, Marlene and I were having a deep philosophical
discussion." I ask, "About what, pray tell?" He takes my cigarette from between  my
lips, saying, "About teenagers and how hard it is for the poor little
buggers  to survive their teen years. Her younger brother specifically. A cute
sixteen  year old lad by the name of, George." I ask, "Did you meet the little
fellow?"  and Chubby chuckles, "Yes, I had the pleasure briefly. He's
basically an  arrogant little prick, but I kept that evaluation to myself." Robby
laughs,  "Yeah, George isn't very communicative. I've met him a number of
times at  neighborhood functions and it appears he doesn't get along well
with others. We  used to have block parties until two years ago when most off
the neighborhood  kids were getting too old to participate. I think George is
the youngest kid in  the neighborhood. His parents aren't too cool. They
put tons of pressure on both  Marlene and George." Chubby says, "That's
exactly what Marlene said, Robby. It's  the parental pressure that's has the kid's
heads all fucked-up. Marlene says she  could handle it, but her brother's
more, um, introspective, or something.  Possibly a touch of narcissism too."
I take my cigarette back from Chubby,  saying, "He's probably under pressure
to get good grades so he can get into a  good college like his parents and
his sister did. In addition to good grades he  needs good extra curricular
activities and ideally he should be popular with his  peers, which means be
like them. Dress right, use the proper slang, listen to  the right kind of
music... all that shit." Robby goes,  "Yeah, I'm guessing  George isn't doing
any of that."

We drink beer and smoke thinking about our own teen years. Then Robby
goes, "Guess we were lucky that none of us had to experience pressure from our
parents. Nothing remotely like what George is apparently experiencing, but I
 knew kids in high school, especially on the baseball team, who were under
that  kind of pressure." I say, "Yep, and if George and others like him are
independent thinkers they're totally fucked in that regard. I mean, the
high  school decides what they need to learn, when, and from whom. The school
tells  them everything, like which stairwell they can go up, how fast to move
through  the corridors, when they're allowed to talk, and when they can't.
They dictate  when to have lunch, what to wear, basically everything and it
don't matter what  the students think. Independent thinkers might rebel and
parents get the  opposite result to the one they're hoping for." Chubby
says, "And while all that  shit's going on the world is telling these teens that
high school is the  carefree best years of their life, while in actuality
the boys are worried sick  that their peers will think they're a sissy, or
that one of the school's bullies  will beat the shit out of them, or worse...
a bully will humiliate them." I ask,  "Did George mention all this?" Chubby
goes, "No, Marlene and I speculated that's  the situation. She thinks George
is also worried that the girls will think he's  a geek. All George muttered
to me is that basically life sucks." I'm like, "Huh,  carefree days indeed.
How the fuck did we survive all that?" Chubby says, "Like  Robby said, we
weren't worried about any of it because our parents weren't like  George and
Marelene's." We all drink some beer and yeah, we're all a little high  from
the booze we drank tonight which brings out this kind of exaggerated
evaluation of situations. Chubby says,  "And not only are these mid-teenage  boys
continuing to go through all the pressures associated with high school, a
lot of then are still dealing with the changes in their body's since puberty,
 and struggling like hell to come to terms with who they are. At the same
time,  running through it all like salt in the wound, are the various
self-satisfied  adults in the lads' lives who keep trivializing their angst." I
say, "Lets write  a manual on surviving the teen year angst." Chubby says, "Um,
lets  not."


We like to build up the trials and tribulations of surviving the teen
years to basically pat ourselves on the back for cruising through those years
without the worries and angst others endured.  Continuing our drinking we
bullshit with each other while feeling good about being us. The truth is we
all  experienced growing pains at one time or another, so the teen years are a
 struggle for everyone. Chubby especially had difficulty dealing with his
changing body for a few years there, oh so long ago. We're good now though,
mostly. Chubby goes, "What am I sitting on?" and he pulls an old newspaper
from  underneath him as we all chuckle. "Reading the newspaper with your
ass, Chub?"  Robby asks. Looking around, he adds, "Yeah, it's kinda messy in
here. We'll do a  full spring cleaning in here before pool season." Chubby's
reading something in  the newspaper. He laughs, "Listen to this guys. A woman
writes Dear Abby: 'I  can't trust my boyfriend. He cheats so much I can't
even be sure the baby I'm  carrying is his. What should I do?' Ha ha, what a
dumb shit." We chuckle after  we think about that for a second. He goes,
"Jesus! here's another one: Dear  Abby, I'm a twenty-three year old liberated
woman who has been on the pill for  three years now. It's expensive and I'm
thinking about asking my boyfriend to  share the cost except I don't know him
well enough to discuss money matters.'  Heh heh, she's fucking with him but
doesn't know him that well. Oh man, subtle  stupidity, huh?" Robby says,
"Let me see that," and he reads, then goes, "Here's  a beauty: Dear Abby, our
son writes to us from college that he's taking up Judo.  Why would a boy in
college from a good Christian home all of a sudden turn on  his own family's
values like that?' Are these jokes?" Chubby says, "I don't  think so. I th
ink they're real people who Abby's mocking." He reads the rest,  but nothing
else is really dumb so we drop that and talk about sports. While  doing that
we all manage to drink three cups of beer and at one-fifteen in the
morning we're finally ready to call it a night. I say, "The going away party for
the army boys had a lot of energy, but I didn't see much of that tonight,
especially after we ate. And I hardly saw Dodger and Connor at all." Robby
goes,  "The ambiance was kinda flat tonight." Chubby smirks, repeating the
word,  "Abidance," and Rob grins, saying, "It's a word. Anyway, tonight was
suppose to  be low key. I guess it didn't help that dad and I had that business
meeting." We  go outside where Robby and I overdo the goodnight kiss with
Chubby muttering in  the background, and then we're finally on our way.


Walking down the driveway, I say, "Good fucking thing you stopped back,
Chub, or I wouldn't have a ride home." He goes, "Are you nuts? I'd never leave
 you without a ride, Dylan," and he squeezes the back of my neck, asking,
"What's  up with that Tom character?" I shrug, "He's a pretty good guy," and
Chubby asks,  "Is he a stoner like his brother and those other wild friends
of Dodger's?" We  get in the Jeep with Chubby in the driver's seat. I go,
"Um, yeah, Tom does some  weed and he sells it too." Chubby looks at me, "How
do you know that?" "He told  me he did. He asked me to sell it on
Merrimack's campus, but I said no." Chubby  glances at me as he drives the Jeep onto
route 9. "He fucking asked you to sells  drugs?" I go, "Yeah, it's not
unheard of, Chub, more college students do  recreational drugs than don't." He
shakes his head, saying, "Ya know, it really  pisses me off he asked you to do
that. Whatever made him think you'd do it?"  Shrugging, I mumble, "How would
I know? He said I was popular and I didn't look  like a drug dealer so the
authorities wouldn't expect me to be dealing."  Chubby's like, "Man, that
gets me mad. He actually came right out and asked  you?" I go, "Yeah, what do
you think, I asked him? I said I wouldn't do it so  what are you upset
about?" Chubby shakes his head, muttering, "I don't know, the  fact that he asked
you makes me want to kick his ass. The fucking nerve!" I go,  "He's a good
guy, not some kind of gangster dude. He sells to college kids he  knows and
he gets the stuff from a friend he has in Europe. He's not working for  some
shady drug dealer in Boston. He sells good weed, not the cut shit ya get on
 the streets of downtown Framingham." Chubby's like, "Good weed? What the
fuck is  good weed?" I shrug, "I don't know, that's what he said."


It's only a ten or twelve minute ride from Robby's  house to our condos and
the middle five minutes we ride in silence. I look over  and see Chubby's
still steaming. I think about Chubby's overreaction while  smelling the back
of my wrist. Okay, I get it... we've all had a lot of beer  tonight and
Chubby's being overly protective of me. At a red light he looks  over, saying,
"When Marlene and I came out of the house you and that Tom dude  were walking
down the driveway and you said you were going to do some blow. I  thought
you were joking. You didn't do it, did you?" My face gets dark red as I
wonder, 'Why the fuck did I mention Tom's dealing?' I  try a diversionary
tactic, "You know I don't like the smell of pot." He says,  "Yeah, but did you do
any of it?" I frown, "Okay, I took a puff or two off his  joint. It wasn't
as bad as I thought it would be." Looking straight ahead I can  feel him
still staring at me. It makes my eyes water. The light turns green and  somebody
honks their horn at Chubby, who's still staring at the side of my red
face. His window goes down and he yells out the window, "Stick that horn up your
 ass, dipshit!!" I'm wiping sweat off my forehead as Chubby does a jack
rabbit  start with the tires squealing. The last few minutes to our place we
ride in  silence, so silent it roars in my ears. We park down at  the curb and
walk up the steps. Halfway up I say, "Lots of guys smoke weed,  Chubby.
Some guys don't drink so they smoke to get a little high. To each  their own.
At least guys that smoke a joint or two don't have hangovers like  we're
going to have tomorrow morning." He mutters, "They do enough of that shit  and
they'll have a hangover. A drug hangover is called 'coming down' and the
body feels like shit, like it's hollow or something." I go, "How do you know?"
and he just waves his hand at me." I better not mention about the crack Tom
had  in our joint. Chubby's not my parent so I didn't expect to hear all
this  negative shit from him. I thought he might think it's kinda cool. I tell
him  stuff because I trust him. You can bet your life I'm not telling him
anymore  about this. I'm pissed off that he's pissed off at me. Why does he
need to lay a  guilt trip on me too. I say, "Why are you giving me the silent
treatment? We  never give each other the silent treatment. We support each
other!"

Up two more steps, then he stops abruptly and turns to face me. "I know
about weed because a part of the window washer boys' after hours routine was
smoking it. Ricky's old man supplied it and it led to bad shit happening.
That's  why I'm sensitive to you smoking it. We didn't know it was weed with
some  cocaine in it. That horrible shit is very addictive too." Oh man, the
window  washer boys again. This is the first I heard about smoking joints.
Rubbing my  nose and pouting, I mutter, "Oh fuck it. I'm sorry about all that
shit you went  through, Chub, but I took a couple of drags. It's not like
I'm a drug addict.  Jesus, give me some slack." At the top of the steps we're
at my condo. Chubby  starts up the steps to his, mumbling, "Goodnight. Don't
forget we've got the  brunch to prepare for tomorrow." I watch him walking
up a few steps, then I take  a deep breath and say, "Chubby, stop! We do not
go to bed mad at each other...  ever!" He says, "I'm not mad so much as I'm
disappointed." I say, "You're  disappointed in me? That's even worse than
being mad at me. Come down here and  hug me to try to make up for hurting my
feelings." He stops, turns around and  looks at me for a second. Then he
goes, "You're right," and comes down the steps  to hug me and kiss me,
mumbling, "I'm sorry, bro. I love you so much I worry  something will happen to you.
You're, um, a little naive and too trusting of  everyone." Then a tight
hug, and I say, "You need to make-up for your unfair  treatment of me tonight."
He blurts out a laugh, "What? Unfair treatment? I was  worried about you
and trying to look out for you." I go, "You hurt my feelings,  which God knows
with my thick skin is hard to do, but you managed to do it.  Plus, you gave
me the silent treatment." He goes, "I wasn't giving you the  silent
treatment. I was trying to decide whether to tell you about my pot and  coke
experience with the window washer boys. I hate bringing that topic up, but  for
you I did it to emphasis the potential dangers." I say, "No excuses. You'll
need to sleep with me tonight to make-up to me, and it wouldn't hurt if you
said  you were sorry too." He laughs, "You're unbelievable," and another hug,
then a  mumbled, "I'm sorry I was worried about you." I rub his head,
"That's a little  better, and you need a haircut too. It's too late tonight, but
tomorrow for  sure." He's smirking at me, meekly saying, "Yes, Dylan," and
then he's chuckling  again.


I go, "Come on into my condo and we'll get ready for bed." He says, "Oh  no
you don't. We slept in your little bed last time. It's my bed tonight." No
sense in arguing about that. I've got him quibbling about which bed we
sleep in  as opposed to if we're going to be sleeping together at all. Good
deal. We'll be  up before the moms so I don't need to leave my mom a note. Going
up the steps, I  ask, "Don't you feel better now that we've talked things
out and you've come to  your senses?" He says, "Oh yeah, much better now.
I've been straightened out and  conned out of my jock by you again." I go,
"You're not wearing a jock. Ya know,  just maybe we need one more beer and a
cigarette before officially calling it a  night." He chuckles and mumbles,
"Whatever you say, big brother." Feeling  pleased with myself that I took the
high road with our mini argument, I skip up  the steps to get next to Chubby
and put my arm across his shoulders, "Bro, you  can check out my feet tonight
if you want." He grins, "My foot fetish, huh? Ya  know what, I don't feel
right doing that, Dylan. It didn't feel right in the  past, and it's
something from our childhood that I'm leaving behind." I ask,  "You're saying you
don't have the fetish anymore?" As he unlocks the front door,  he says, "Not
to a degree I can't resist it. You are attached to two of my  favorite feet
in the world, but they'll forever remain a cherished memory of my  misguided
youth." We're walking to his bedroom, "Whaddaya mean?" He says, "Feet  are
my little fetish, but one I prefer to live from now on without indulging. I
always feel disappointed in myself afterward, so I'm using something called
willpower to not do foot fetish stuff anymore." I go, "That's crazy! What's
the  harm?" He's staring at the cargo pants I left here on the floor
earlier.  Glancing at me, he mumbles, "I haven't worn these cargo trousers this
semester."  I say, "Looks like somebody did," and he chuckles shaking his
head. "It's  getting chilly outside, Dylan, wear this," and he tosses me a
sweatshirt. I go,  "Isn't this mine?" and he says, "Yeah, it probably is."


It's a gray Patriot sweatshirt with a hood. I pull it over my head, "You
have a sweatshirt just like this somewhere."  Chubby's dropping sweatshirts
on the floor, mumbling, "I know. I'm looking for it." Looking around, I go,
"Shouldn't we pick up around here? Someone could twist an ankle walking
through  all these discarded clothes." He says, "Ah ha, here it is. Now we'll
be twins."  I say, "We're always twins, Chubby, no matter what we wear."
Chubby pulls the  sweatshirt over his head, asking, "Do you feel drunk?" I say,
"I'm a little bit  high, but feeling really good." We walk into the kitchen
where Chubby gets two  Rolling Rock pony bottles out of the refrigerator,
saying, "I put your latest  IOU for beers with all your other IOUs." I mumble,
"Good to have then all in a  safe place." He snaps the caps off the beers,
"Yeah, I had to start another shoe  box of IOUs because the first one was
full." I chuckle, "Oh, really?" He taps  his bottle to mine, saying, "To the
best friends and brothers the world has ever  known," I mumble, "I'll drink
to that," and we both chug some beer. We go out on  the balcony with Chubby
saying, "My mom gets such a kick out of your IOUs. She  thinks you're
awesome." I go, "Everybody says that." We sit down and I ask, "How  about some
tunes, bro?" He goes, "My mom's asleep," and I nod my head, saying,  "The moms
are home early for a Saturday night. I hope nothing's wrong." Chubby's  like,
"Yeah, mom said her and Dee were going to get to bed earlier than usual
because they want to be rested for brunch tomorrow. We should do something
special for them." I say, "Sure, but we've only been away at college a week.
It's not like Dodger and Connor coming home after almost three months." He
says,  "Even though the moms don't see us much during the week normally, they
like the  idea of us sleeping in our bedrooms when they get home from work.
It's a mom  thing, humor them."


I light a cigarette, take a drag and pass it to Chubby saying, "Don't lip
it this time." He blurts out a laugh because I saturated the filter with
spit.  He mutters, "Yeah, I'll try not to," and I say, "Dodger says you and him
 commiserated about Robby proposing to me this summer." Chubby's eyebrows
go  up as he looks at me, "He told you about that?" I go, "Yeah, why not?
It's not  like I thought you were crazy about the idea when I told you about
the  engagement." He asks, "What'd he say?" I shrug, "He said a lot of things.
He's  jealous of Robby for one thing. He thinks Robby and I are doomed
because we're  living under the false pretense of Robby being in charge when
it's actually me  who's in charge." Smoke comes out of Chubby's nose and mouth
as he passes the  cigarette back to me, saying, "He's right about you being
the real leader of  your love affair, but I don't see that necessarily
dooming you two. If you're  both happy, who cares who's in charge?" I go, "Well,
I'm not gonna argue about  it, but Robby's our leader. Wasn't he a good boss
last summer, a good leader for  his crew?" Chubby glances at me, "Robby's
awesome. I love him, but he was more  one of the guys than a boss." I go,
"That is just so wrong, Chubby, but it's  your opinion and you're welcome to
it." He grins, "You're also our leader too,  ain't ya?" I'm indignant,
"Absolutely not! You're more mature and grounded than  me. I look to you for advise
whenever I need it." He chuckles, "I love you so  much, bro. You're
awesome." I ask, "Don't we overuse that word?" He shrugs, "So  what? You are
awesome." Hmmm, that's nice to hear.


We pass the cigarette back and forth until it's only a butt, which I  flick
over the railing except it goes off the potted plant on the balcony
instead. The fucking thing comes right back at me, bouncing off my knee. Chubby
laughs his ass off as he picks it up and flicks it way over the balcony
railing.  I mutter, "I do that on purpose, ya know? Just for comedic value." He
nods his  head chuckling, "Uh huh." "Um, Chubby, let me asked you something
else. Dodger  says Robby's been obsessed with me since he was fifteen years
old. Okay, even if  that's an exaggeration, do you think he's obsessed with
me, and is that a bad  thing?" He goes, "You're a person I can understand
someone obsessing over, but I  don't know if Robby's doing that or not. If
someone's obsessed about another  person and the relationship breaks up there's
no one to pick up the pieces for  the obsessed person. That would probably
be devastating to Robby, if he is in  fact obsessed with you." I go, "Well,
we're not breaking up so we can forget  about that concern." Chubby shrugs,
"Good that you can predict the future. The  fact remains that someone
mistaking obsession for love could be heading down a  dead-end street at a hundred
miles an hour. It wouldn't be good in any way for  either party. That's just
my uninformed opinion of course. He's never stalked  you though, so it's
probably not obsession anyway. He loves you and so do I.  You're easy to love
and very, very special to me. The most special thing in my  life actually."
That chokes me up a little so I just nod my head, mumbling, "You  too,
Chubby." We finish our little pony bottles of beer and Chubby gets two more
without asking if I want one. I'm wondering if I should press on asking Chubby
about the other things Dodger said. I decide I will, but if I hadn't been
drinking all night I probably would be smarter about it and spread out the
things Dodger said over time. You know, asking Chubby just one point at a
time.  We've put the 'who's in charge' and the obsession angles to bed to my
satisfaction, so I'll asked about something else.


When Chubby sits back down, I go, "So you agree with me that Dodger's
wrong about Robby being obsessed and you agree it doesn't matter who's in charge
 as long as we're happily in love." He chuckles, "If you say so, bro."
Ignoring the sarcasm, I ask, "How about him saying Rob and me getting  engaged
is, um, goofy?" Chubby takes a deep breath, then says, "First of all, I
said I don't know if Robby's obsessive or not, Dylan, and I agree with Dodger
that you, my brother, in the end are always in charge." I go, "You're mixed
up  about both those topics, but we've moved past those two items now. How
about the  'goofy' reference about our engagement?" He smirks, "Do I dare say
that, yes,  'goofy' is as good a way to describe your engagement as any." I
go, "People get  engaged at twenty, ya know?" and he says, "Very few, and
when they do it's not  normally a secret and not normally planned for three
years in the future, at the  earliest. So much can change in three years it's
mind boggling." Well that  sucks! I say, "I resent the word 'goofy'! We're
not goofy." He grins, "You're  right, you're not goofy. Choose another word.
How 'bout 'odd' or simply  'unusual'?" I say, "We'll stick with unusual, if
you insist. Robby and I aren't  like everyone else, and neither are you and
me." Chubby grins at me, "And who's  the common denominator among us?" I
say, "Okay, I am, but I don't mind being  called unusual. Okay, we've knock
down that point too." He laughs, then lights a  cigarette, saying, "If you're
going to come to your rationalized conclusion  about everything, what's the
sense in asking me what I think?" I say, "If you'll  recall you're the great
rationalizer, not me." He nods, mumbling, "Okay, okay,  what's next?" I
ask, "What do you think about me being a stay at home dad when  Robby and I are
married?" He says, "And with a baby, no less. I think it's the  worst idea
out of all the ones you two are planning. Anyway, I've no intention  of
letting that happen, but why argue about it three years ahead of time? You'll
realize it's not what you want before you get married, if you do get
married."  I'm nodding now because I think both Chubby and Dodger are right about
that. I  say, "You're probably right, Chub, but like you said, it's two or
three years  away from final decision time. I'm going to talk to Robby about
this item next  week so it has a chance to resolve itself way before the
fact." He says, "That's  good, bro," and I go, "See, I've agreed with almost
everything you've said." He  rolls his eyes and I yell, "I have too!"


Chubby chugs some beer passing the cigarette to me. I fill the filter  with
spit, then say, "The baby idea is okay, but not right away and we can
always hire a nanny." He says, "You better hire one because taking care of a
baby is a full time job. Then there's the so called 'terrible twos' the kid
goes  through and it doesn't get any easier after that." I say, "Jesus, you
are making  a mountain out of a molehill. I'm going to insist on a nanny, but
even if I  didn't what's the big deal. Once I got the baby used to the
routine, lets say it  takes two weeks, and then it's just a matter of following
the routine day in and  day out.  I'd put on those gloves the dentist uses,
change the baby's  diaper, give him a bottle of milk, and he sleeps and
sleeps. Wake him up for  lunch and maybe change another diaper, then he sleeps
until Robby gets home.  Then it's his turn to change a diaper, if needed, and
give the baby a bottle. My  problem is what I'd do with all the rest of my
day. If I couldn't get a stay at  home job it'd be like the whole day
shooting pool. That's the part I don't like  and it's the reason I'm insisting on a
nanny for the kid. Plus, if I was stuck  in the house I wouldn't be able to
get out and meet people and have some fun.  I'm a people person." Chubby's
laughing, "You're so funny. I hope you don't  believe a word of what you
just said." I go, "I do so! What would I do all day?  That's why we need a
nanny. She can clean the house or something during all her  free time." He's
still chuckling, then he goes, "Don't be a stay at home dad. If  you guys must
have a baby, get the fucking nanny." I say, "See, we agree on this  too." He
says, "It's only the first thing we've agreed on so far." I go, "We've
agreed on everything. This is helping me clear my mind for when I talk to
Robby." Chubby says, "So you agree that Dodger's right?" I'm like, "I sort of
conceded to Dodger that one point, but not for the reasons he said. Here's
something else: Dodger said Robby intended keeping me captive in the house."
Chubby's like, "He's right if you were a stay at home dad with a baby. But
whatever, as long as you don't let yourself get in the trap of stay at home
dad  or stay at home anything there's no problem. You gotta live your life,
bro."  Huh, I'm basically right about all of this and Chubby's agreeing
with  me.


Emboldened by the positive response from Chubby, I ask, "What do you  think
about me taking Robby's last name?" Chubby points at me, mumbling, "That's
another thing I have no intention of letting you do. I like your name."
Hmmm, I  do too. "Well, I've taken your advise on everything else so I might as
well take  it here too." He laughs again getting into a coughing fit.
Getting up, I'm  patting his back, mumbling, "Everything's a fucking joke to
you," and he's  shaking his head still chuckling. A final cough and he like,
"Oh, God, Dylan,  you're too much. Oh fuck, that's funny shit." I'm like, "What
are you talking  about? We're having a frank discussion, clearing the air."
He nods, "No more  clearing the air tonight, okay? I'm freakin' weak from
laughing." Frowning, I  mutter, "I don't think my life is a laughing matter."
Chubby gets serious,  "You're right, it most definitely isn't. I'm jealous
of your love affair, Dylan.  I can't fall in love. Everyone I meet pales in
comparison to you." I ask, "Are  you making fun of me again?" He shakes his
head, "I never make fun of you. When  I laugh I'm laughing with you and
wishing you all the happiness in the world at  the same time. Some of your ideas
can use a bit of an adjusting, but I've no  doubt you'll see that in time
yourself. Me make fun of you? Never! In your whole  life you'll never meet
anyone who loves you as deeply as I do, so don't ever  mistake what I do as
laughing at you or putting you down in any way. I'm totally  incapable of
doing that where you're concerned, and knowing that I'm not gives  me joy." I'm
staring at him, "You're serious?" He says, "Of course I am. Have  you ever
doubted my love?" I stare some more, then ask, "Could you ever be in
romantic love with me?" He looks away, "Don't go there, Dylan." I ask, "Why  not?"
He mumbles, "Jesus, Dylan. Only you would come out with that question. Do
you say whatever enters your brain?" I say, "No, but what about my question?"
 Chubby gulps down the rest of his beer, burps, then says, "I won't discuss
 impossibilities because it doesn't do anyone any good. Lets go to bed,
it's  almost two o'clock." Okay, so he doesn't want to speculate if he could
fall in  romantic love with me. I stand up, and say, "Sure, lets go to bed.
Just for the  record, I could easily fall in romantic love with you." He
mutters, "I'm well  aware of that, come to bed."


In silence we get undressed to our boxer shorts, then take turns pissing
and washing up. Then we share his toothbrush and gargle with mouthwash.
Getting  in bed, I mumble, "Goodnight, Chubby,"and he says, "What, no kiss?" We
hug each  other and our kiss is much more than a goodnight peck on the lips
or cheek. When  it's over I have a partial boner and want desperately to move
my leg to see if  Chubby has one, but I respect him too much to do that. It
would embarrass him if  he's sprouting wood. We go to sleep in each other's
arms with me wondering how  the conversation led to this display of emotion
from Chubby. What would it be  like if Chubby and me... no, he won't let
that happen. His willpower is too  strong.... but I have to wonder just the
same.


to be continued...    Donny Mumford    thinat20@yahoo. com


========================================================



I continue to provide this little advertisement in hopes that  some of you
readers will purchase the books that I have had  published. They are
available on Amazon. Actually one book and one short  story. The short story is
titled "Concealed Agony - Gay Romance" (and  I didn't pick that title.) Read
the short story first. And the book is  named  "Oliver's Wildwood Vacation"
They are both about  'Oliver'.  You can easily find them by searching for
'Donny Mumford' at the  Amazon web site.

And I would appreciate it if you would  provide a comment at the site for
the stories as  well.

Thanks.

Donny Mumford



============================================================================


Also please make a tax deductible donation to nonprofit Nifty to help  with
the expenses of maintaining this huge story site. Thank  You.