Date: Fri, 8 Mar 2013 07:06:56 -0800 (PST)
From: John Gerald <connectwriter@yahoo.com>
Subject: Peter's Story 24

Thanks again for visiting, everyone.  Your thoughts on the story are always
welcome, especially with this new chapter.

Because he had committed to so many interviews for a winter break research
project back in his hometown of Los Angeles, Jeremy had only returned to
school the evening before classes were to start. It didn't give him a lot
of time to readjust from 70 degrees and sunny to the biting cold of the
Massachusetts winters, but seeing his friends again and looking forward to
interesting classes more than made up for it.

There was one thing that was dragging him down, though.  As much as he was
looking forward to seeing everyone, he had detected a gradual distancing of
himself and his girlfriend Kathy. It had started during the fall semester,
but seemed to widen even further when they were apart the past few weeks.

It wasn't him.  He could have talked and emailed her everyday while she was
in France trying to brush-up on her foreign language skills.  But the
response time and enthusiasm was clearly not matched on the other side.

She was his first really serious relationship and his expectations and
dreams for it were high.  He thought it could go anywhere.  While she
seemed to enjoy the camaraderie, and certainly the sex if her breathless
clawing at his bod meant anything, he wondered at times about whether they
should be sharing anything more.

He thought that maybe it was his own fault when she didn't seem interested
in what had happened to him on this or that day, those times that she
seemed to drift a bit during conversations.  Maybe he talked too much, he
told himself, though an objective observer would have judges probably the
opposite.

Perhaps his expectations were too high.  Or he just had the wrong idea of
what a relationship was about, he would tell himself.  His folks were
divorced before he could even remember so who was he to say, one who had
never observed a loving and authentic relationship first hand, in his own
home.

But there was one relationship right in front of him that he did see as a
kind of model. Often, when he looked at Marty and Peter, he had the thought
that it was supposed to be that way with Kathy. Or any two people when they
were really a `couple.'  They seemed to listen to each other, didn't
embarrass the other one in public even in a teasing way, seemed to always
know what was going on with the other.  They just seemed to be so aware of
each other's `space,' if he could describe it in some abstract way.

It wasn't as if they had some kind of pure platonic attraction that
transcended the physical, something that was somehow less of the flesh than
what he and Kathy had. After all, how many times had he noticed at the neck
of one or the other covered with sucker bites. He was even a witness from
the first time that the guys had met, so they undoubtedly had the physical
thing right from the start.

But they had something else that was special, too. Or, he thought,
something that that others didn't have. Strife. Battles. Conflict. He
couldn't pretend to know how things went for them in private, but for the
year he had known them as a couple he didn't see a hint of that tension in
public. When he looked around at other couples, and even he and Kathy
sometimes, there was often the slow simmering of some problem or issue that
gave a distinct vibe to the situation.

So they were a model for him, but at the moment it gave him little
comfort. Kathy had just asked that they get together for coffee after her
last class on Wednesday. Not an unusual request in itself, but in the
circumstances, there was a 'smell' to it that he didn't like.

						***

'Why?'

He kept asking himself the same question over and over again. 'Why?'  He
treated her like he wanted to be treated himself. He was there when she
needed him, when she was sick, bummed out over a test, or had trouble with
her parents.  But now she said that she 'needed some space' and wanted to
'see what it might be like with other guys.'

After that, he just started walking.  He did a loop around the campus,
which took almost an hour. Then he decided to walk the entire length
through the center back and forth but was careful to avoid her dorm. He
wanted to cry but he couldn't get anything to come out. He was just numb.

He had walked for almost two hours and was feeling the effects of the long
trek in his legs, but at the same time was still too upset to do anything
else. It was like his despair and anxiety was keeping him on a forced
march. He had probably walked a couple miles. Sometimes in circles but
always in continuous motion.

Finally he took his hands out of his pockets and paused for a moment. He
started by looking around to get his bearings and simply to figure out
where he was, but his other intention was to actually see the environment
he was standing in and not just the pay attention to the turmoil inside his
own head.

He hardly recognized the area. Like most of this old college town, it had
rows of neat 19th century clapboard houses, many divided up into apartments
for the few students who preferred them over dorm living.  But it was way
on the other side of campus from where he lived so he hardly knew it at
all.

Vaguely, he remembered one of the few times that he had been in this
neighborhood. It was perhaps two years ago, for the art history class study
session at Marty's apartment before he even knew him.  That visit now felt
as long ago as the art they studied.

Suddenly, he realized that very house was right across the street. There
were lights on upstairs and he could imagine it being warm and cozy,
especially for how he felt now. He was tempted to visit. He thought that
the guys might be good to talk to, and the place would sure be more
hospitable than the frigid weather outside.

But then he thought, `Why drag them through my problems?' Besides, he was
so tired that decided that he had better head back or he'd never make it
home. After stuffing his leather-gloved hands back in his pockets he
started back in the direction of the main campus when he suddenly heard a
voice behind him.

"Jer?"

He turned around. He didn't have his backpack with him so for the moment
felt almost naked.  Plus, he felt weird being out there this late on a cold
January night.  There was no way to come up with a classwork-related excuse
to give to anyone as to why he was so far from home.

He heard his name again. Somehow, he had just zoned out after the first
question and didn't even answer.'

"Are you OK." he finally registered the voice. It was Peter.

"Oh...sorry...um, I just out for a walk." He tried to sound nonchalant,
feeble as he knew the response was.

There was only a dim yellowish streetlight above them, but it seemed to be
all Peter needed for recognition.  "What's the matter, Jer? You don't look
too good. And what are you doing all the way out here in the boondocks?"

He didn't even know what he said. All he could do was get out the word
"Kathy, she, um ..."

"Is she OK? Peter asked, shifting a small plastic bag with some kitchen
sundries into his other hand.

"Um...she's fine. She just, um wants...um...something else."

The next thing he knew, the bag was on the ground and Peter's arms were
around him, At first he didn't react. Then slowly, he leaned his head onto
Peter's shoulder and started silently crying.

After he actually realized what had just happened, Jeremy quickly pulled
his head back. "Sorry, Peter. I didn't mean to...do that...I mean..." he
was now very confused. He wanted to get back home, get in his own bed, and
just leave reality behind for the moment. Not talk about it. But it was
good to see Peter. And he had to admit, he realized now very tired he
actually was.

"Umm...thanks, so much, it was good to run into you, but I should probably
leave you all alone. I mean, "he said, stopping to sniffle and get his
breath back. "I mean, thanks again, but I really should..."

"You need to come up with me, Jer. You're in no condition to go anywhere,"
Peter answered.

"I don't want to dump this on you guys, I should really go now."

"Sorry, but no way. We're your friends and you need somebody right now. And
we're here for you," he said, gently but firmly placing his hand around
Jeremy's shoulder and moving him in the direction of their house.  "Come on
up."

						***

The next thing he knew, he was being supported by Marty. And where his
crying on Peter's shoulder was the first small leak in the dyke, it had now
burst.

Marty stoked his back as Jeremy sobbed on his shoulder. He didn't think of
anything. He just cried.

It was just like it was with Peter not two minutes before. It didn't make
the pain go away. But for a few moments, it again felt like there was a
least a balm on it, something that lifted the load for just a moment,
enough time for him to get a better grip.

"...uh, thanks," he said as he gently pushed himself away and stood on his
own. "Sorry about that, I guess I just kind of lost it..."

"No worries, dude," Peter said as he stood behind them, moving his hand up
to Jeremy's shoulder and starting a rhythmic squeezing. "This is really,
tough, I know it is."

Somehow, he knew that Peter wasn't just saying that to be nice.

Although never expressed himself at the time, Jeremy later realized that it
was desperate sadness he had seen on his face later in the fall semester of
their sophomore year, when Peter seemed to become so withdrawn. It was
right before he and Marty had gotten together. There was probably a lot
more to the story than he actually knew, but he always suspect that it was
about this kind of stuff.

"Um, thanks...Peter," he said as he reached back and squeezed his hand.

Looking up at Marty, he said, "Thanks to you, too, buddy. This helps...it
helps."

"Like Pete said, 'No worries"

Jeremy stood with them for a few more moments, both guys right beside
him. He hardly knew what to do next until he heard directions from
Peter. And we was ready to lead.

"Hey, have a seat, Jer. You're home here, so take off your jacket, chill
for a while. Kick off your shoes, too." Peter said, guiding him to the
small couch in the apartment."

"Yeah, can I get you something to drink?" Marty asked, moving toward the
kitchen.  "We've got OJ, beer...um, you probably don't want milk, and let's
see what else..." he said as he opened the door and peered inside, scanning
the interior front to back and then doing the same to the shelves on the
door.

"I think there's some sodas in there someplace, too, Mart.  Maybe in the
back," Peter called out.

"Oh yea, there they are," he answered. "Would a soda be OK?"

Before Jeremy even had time to answer, Marty realized that he was probably
still freezing and a cold drink probably wasn't a good idea.

"Hey, you know what, we could make some hot chocolate, how would that be?
Now that milk makes some sense to me," he added.

"Oh, thanks guys, but I shouldn't stay long. It's kind of late already and
all."

"You probably haven't eaten either," Marty said as pulled out the milk and
poured it into a pan for heating.

"Yeah, when did you eat last?" Peter asked as he took Jeremy's jacket from
him and laid it over one of the dining room chairs in the small eating
nook.  "You can leave after you've had a drink and eaten some food. And not
before then." Peter said, giving him a slight smile as he heard the pilot
striking to light the flame on the burner.

"Yeah, so let's see what we have here to eat while that's heating up,"
Marty said as he returned to the refrigerator from the old gas
stove. "Let's see... there's an extra Egg McMuffin from this morning
and...oh, wait a minute. We had chile for dinner – that would be
perfect!"

"I agree, that would be great for a night like tonight." Peter added.  "But
there's also some protein bars, too, up in the cupboard.  And cereal and
bagels, too. We could do any of those things in case you don't like chili,"
Peter added.

Jeremy could hardly belief his luck in coming here. On one hand he didn't
feel like he could eat anything. On the other hand, he hadn't eaten even a
bite since getting the news that morning. But, then again, being hungry
didn't seem to matter anymore.

He went back and forth with Peter about food, grateful for the offers, but
not really sure that he could even eat anything right now, as hungry as his
now-growling stomach was telling him he was.

"Thanks guys, but maybe I should just chill for a bit, then go home and
..."

Before he even got the complete sentence out of his mouth, he saw a
bubbling bowl of chili, courtesy of modern microwave technology, placed in
front of him.  A spoon stood practically up right, immobile in the stiff,
thick chile that Peter liked to make, along with a toasted bagel and a
steaming mug of hot chocolate.

"Sorry, I had to zap the chili rather than just heat it up in the oven.
But we've got ice cream for dessert so that should make up for it," Marty
said.

"Thanks. Like I said, I'm um... kind of not in the mood to eat, but,
um.. on the other hand I am sort of hungry" He took a sip of the drink
before tentatively dipping a spoon into the bowl.

"When's the last time that you ate?"  Peter asked,

"I guess this morning, I had some cereal for breakfast. But nothing since
then."

"Well, then dig in," Marty said.

"Are you guys going to have something?"

"No, we had dinner already. We were just waiting for you." Peter replied as
he smiled and again put his arm on Jeremy's shoulder.

He tentatively held the spoon, then starting stirring the bowl. He could
see there were red and green and orange things in there, along with big
chunks of ground meat. He didn't register them as peppers or carrots or
whatever, just `thing's and that it was food. He a first mouthful and then
glanced up at the guys, looking in turns at each one of them.

"This tastes as good as anything could taste now. Who made it?" he said as
he went for another spoonful.

"Pete did.  I'm the baker, he's the cook," Marty replied.

For a moment, their interesting protocol for names was fascinating to
him. When they were with relative strangers, Marty would call him
Peter. But when they were amongst close friends, he would call him Pete. It
made him feel sort of privileged that he was always around for 'Pete.'

Before he knew it, the bowl was half empty.  First a spoonful of chili,
then some bagel, then back to the chile. It was all devoured in about two
minutes. He was so preoccupied with other things that he didn't realize how
hungry he really was.

He scraped the last morsels onto the edge of the bowl, unconsciously wiping
it with the last bit of the bagel before finishing that off, too.

After placing the now empty bowl back on the table, he took a deep breath
and relaxed back in his chair. "Thanks so much guys. that really hit the
spot!" he exclaimed.

"No problem, Jer, glad to," Marty replied.  "Hey, would you like some more?
We have plenty left in the fridge. We usually make it to last a couple
days, so there's plenty left with your name on it."

"Thanks..ummm...but...I'm not sure. Well, maybe..." he only realized then
how truly famished he was before he heard another ceramic bowl clang
against the microwave turntable and the beeps and then the beeps from
instruction panel.

						***

After his second helping he decided he had enough and waived off yet
another bowl from Marty. "That was really, really good, thanks so much. But
I think I'm filled up now," he pleaded, "I don't think I could take another
spoonful. But it was really good!"

As he leaned back in his chair to take another sip of the hot chocolate, he
realized it was still piping hot, almost as much as when it was placed
there a few moments ago. He must have inhaled the food, he thought to
himself.

After Marty returned from clearing the table and putting the dishes in the
sink Jeremy chatted more with them about what had happened.  He didn't go
into a blow-by-blow account of his last encounter with Kathy and neither of
them pressed him about it. The just let him talk about whatever he wanted
at whatever pace was comfortable.

He didn't remember a lot about the place from when he was there earlier. It
was just for a study session, and there was nothing remarkable about the
evening. He remembered it being well kept for a student apartment, but that
was about it. Maybe it was because he was just tired. But given the current
circumstances, he didn't see this merely as a place where two guys just ate
and slept, it was where they made a home.

One clearly new element was the installation of a gallery of photographs
above a makeshift study area that they had installed in a corner of the
small living room. That really was unusual, he thought to himself. For
college students, you might see one family picture or maybe a girlfriend or
boyfriend and the rest were posters or pennants or other decorative
hangings.

But this had no dramatic photographs of exotic vacation sites, sports
figures or art shots meant for philosophical contemplation, but pictures of
family and friends.  A picture of his Dads, Marty's sister and Peter's
cousin who both visited several time, Peter's three nieces and nephews. He
even saw himself in one, his arm around Wei's shoulder along with a few of
their other teammates.

They weren't fancy and except for some formal pictures of Peter's family
they looked like they could have come out of camera phones. But they had
the place of honor in the house and couldn't be missed or ignored.

As these images went throught his head, he continued to talk with them
about the day and how he ended up there, not realizing the time or even how
long they had been talking.

As it was one of those apartments that was so small you could see the
small, lighted numbers in the kitchen even if you were in the dining room,
he was shocked when he actually saw the time in the small, green digital
numbers.

`11:55'

"Wow, guys, I'm sorry, it looks like it's gotten really late, it's almost
midnight! I should really be going now," he said as he quickly glanced down
at this watch to confirm the time.

"You can stay as long as you like, Jer. You can even stay here if you want
to, if that would help," Peter said.

"Yeah, we've got extra blankets and a sleeping bag, and we could put the
couch cushions on the floor so that you could stretch out," Marty added.

"It's pretty late, too," Peter said.  "By the time you get home and crawl
into bed and all it could be like 1 or so."

In spite of the pleading, Jeremy felt like he really wanted to be in his
own bed and started to get up to retrieve his jacket.  "I appreciate so
much what you all have done for me tonight," he responded, "but I think the
long walk will do me some good. And just finding my way here, you know,
there must have been some power in the universe watching over me. So thanks
so much!" he said as he reached over and squeezed Peter's hand.

"No problem, Jer, We're here when you need us."

It took him a few minutes to actually get out the door. After getting bear
hugs from each of the guys, Marty insisted on inspecting him up and down to
make sure he was dressed warmly enough. Only after he buttoned the
difficult top clasp on his puffy ski jacket was Jeremy allowed out the door
to slowly make his way down the snow-dusted stairs for the long walk home.

Even though he knew that he wanted to get home quickly, he went down the
stairs slowly, almost savoring each step. Being with Peter and Marty was
the only good thing that had happened to him that day and his feel almost
didn't want to leave.  So he took his time.

But just as he hit the bottom landing and was about to head out to the
sidewalk and pick up the pace for the long walk home, he heard a voice from
above.

"Hey Jer! wait up second!"

Turning around and looking back up the stairs, he saw Marty buttoning up
his own jacket as he bounded down the stairs after him, some kind of big
bundle in his hand.

"What are you doing? Jeremy asked, looking at him as he made it to the
bottom and pulled a cap from his jacket onto his head.

"We don't think that it's right for you to be alone tonight, so I'm going
home with you. I've got a sleeping bag, so I can just crash on the floor."

"I'll be OK, don't worry," Jeremy replied, trying to discourage him but
almost wanting to be contradicted at the same time.

"Well, both Pete and I disagree. We don't think that you shouldn't be
alone, at least for tonight."

Jeremy just looked back at him. He felt a tightening in his throat and all
he could get out of it was a slightly croaked, 'thanks.'

Marty put his hand on his shoulder and turned him in the direction of
campus. "Glad to. But let's get going so that you can get some sleep before
class tomorrow, OK?"

He was now at a point to just let himself be pushed along by events.  He
had gotten rejuvenated by being with the guys, but had actually dreaded the
lonely walk back alone after being in such supportive company.

As they were approaching his apartment, Jeremy could hear Marty's phone
vibrate against some coins in his pocket.

Slowing down to allow Marty to retrieve it through all the layers of
clothing, he asked, "is everything OK?"

"Yeah it's fine Jer.  "It's Pete. He says that Wei is going to come over
and bring you dinner tomorrow night. He's bringing some pizza. There is a
different person who will bring you dinner every day this week up to
Friday. Then we're all going out for something together that night, we'll
figure out exactly what it is when we get there. But all the guys will be
there.

"So I think we have you covered until the weekend," Marty said as he turned
to Jeremy. But there was no answer.

Marty looked back at him and him and asked, "Are you OK?"

He just remembered wiping his eyes, and worrying for moment whether they
might freeze shut.. "Um yea, I"m OK. Just...give it a sec..."

"Sure," Marty said, his hand again reaching over to Jeremy's shoulder.
"Watch out, it's close to zero.  They might freeze."

"Yeah, I just thought of that, too. Kind of silly, I know but...

He again felt Marty's hand on his shoulder. "Well, let's get you home as
soon as possible just in case," he said as he gently pulled him on.

"Think you can make it?"

"Yup! Let's go."