Date: Wed, 28 Aug 2013 13:48:41 -0400
From: Dayton Doubles <daytondoubles@woh.rr.com>
Subject: Birds Don't Sing Before a Storm   Chapter 3

The following is a work of fiction. Any similarities to anyone are purely
coincidental. The story is intended for a mature audience. It may contain
profanity and references to gay sex. If this offends you, please leave and
find something more suitable to read. The author maintains all rights to
the story. Do not copy or use without written permission. Write
ronyx@themustardjar.com with your comments. Ronyx is a prolific Nifty
author. Visit my personal website at www.themustardjar.com for more
stories.


Birds Don't Sing Before a Storm       Chapter 3


I sat handcuffed in the back of the cruiser while the officer typed
information into his computer. I asked nervously, "Why am I being
arrested?" As far as I knew, I hadn't done anything wrong.

"You're not being arrested," he stated. "I'm just detaining you for now."

"Why?"

He looked in his rearview mirror at me. "Your mother filed a missing
person's report this morning." He turned and stared into the
backseat. "Right now we have you listed as a runaway."

"I'm not running away," I informed him.

"Yeah, sure, Kid," he replied with a laugh. He then held up the bus
ticket. "I guess you were buying this for a friend?"

He looked at me for a few seconds before asking, "Where did you get the
money to buy this ticket?"

I responded sarcastically, "I save my money. Is that against the law?"

He turned and began typing again on his computer. "It is when you `save' it
from your mother's purse."

I didn't know how to respond. I couldn't believe my mother had called the
police because I took money from her purse. He looked at me again in the
rearview mirror. "Theft is a misdemeanor," he said. "It could put you in
juvenile detention for a couple of months."

I asked, "Is she going to press charges?"

"Naw, Kid," he replied. "She just wants you returned to your home."

I sat back, closed my eyes and said, "I'd rather go to juvie."

He laughed and responded, "I bet you do, Kid. I bet you do." He drove off,
and fifteen minutes later we were pulling up in front of my home.

While the officer talked to my mother, I headed up to my room. I didn't
even look over at her as I entered the door. I already knew the look that
would be on her face. I'd seen it many times before.

When I entered my bedroom, my computer and all my video games had been
removed. I guess she thought she was going to exert some parental control
over me. If she wanted to play mind games, then I was equally prepared.

However, when I went to my closet to put away my backpack, most of my
clothes had been removed. Except for a few shirts I hardly ever wore,
everything else was gone.

I went to the window, and I waited until I saw the officer get into his
cruiser and pull away. I then stormed downstairs to confront my mother.

I approached her and hollered, "Where the hell are my things?"

She looked at me with a cold stare. "Since you are so intent on leaving,"
she replied, "I'm making it easy for you."

"What do you mean?"

She walked over and took her car keys from the kitchen counter. "Go get in
the car," she ordered.

"Why?"

"I'm taking you to your father," she replied.

"What?" I shouted. "You're driving me to North Carolina?"

"I'm taking you halfway. Your father will drive you the rest of the way."

I turned and headed for the front door. Before opening it, I said angrily,
"I hate you."

"I'm sure you do," she replied. "Any son who would steal from his own
mother..." I slammed the front door before she could finish.

We drove in silence for over four hours. Four hours! I didn't say anything,
and neither did she. I slept most of the time. When I was awake, all I
wanted to do was grab the steering wheel and drive us head on into a
semi. We stopped once to eat- at a McDonald's. She went through the
drive-thru, and she didn't ask me what I wanted. Luckily, I like their Big
Mac.

I woke up when we pulled into a truck stop just outside Nashville. It was
almost four o'clock. My mother cruised around until she saw a white Ford
Explorer. When she pulled up beside it, my father jumped out.

I didn't even recognize him. If I hadn't known we were to meet him, I
probably wouldn't have known who he was. He had gained about fifty pounds
since the last time I saw him. His hair was balding with touches of
gray. When I got out of the car, he stood and stared at me. I guess I
wasn't the little runt he remembered, either.

His mouth curled into a nervous smile. "Hello, Son," he said as he
approached and extended his hand.

"I'm not your son," I replied angrily as he glanced over at my mother. "You
gave up that right when you walked out on us." I opened up the trunk and
began removing my belongings from my mother's car. They walked away about
fifteen feet and talked while I loaded my bags into the rear of my father's
SUV. When I was done, I got into the passenger's side and slammed the
door. I reclined in the seat and closed my eyes.

This was all bullshit. I hadn't done anything seriously wrong to deserve
the punishment I was receiving. I knew what was going on- my mother no
longer wanted me to live with her. She hadn't for two years. She was just
using this as an excuse to finally get rid of me.

And I hated my father. He was a stranger. I felt absolutely nothing when I
first saw him. I thought that maybe there would be some connection from the
past. Until he left, he had been a good father. He treated me like a
son. But now, time had created an empty void. I felt no more of a
connection to him than any man I would pass in the mall on a Saturday
afternoon. Any relationship we had died years ago. As far as I was
concerned, my mother was sending me to live with a stranger.

I hated her for what she was doing. We could have coexisted for two more
years. Sure, I had been pushing all her buttons lately, but it wasn't
anything serious. It was working for us, or at least I thought it was. Only
two more years and I would be eighteen. On my eighteenth birthday, I was
planning to leave anyway. If I didn't go to college, then I would have
gotten a job and found my own place to live.

I didn't open my eyes when my father opened the door and climbed into the
SUV. "It's good to see you again, Son." He patted my hand, but I quickly
pulled it away. He was silent a minute. I could tell he was staring at me,
but I didn't want to open my eyes to see.

He asked, "Are you hungry?" When I didn't reply, he started the truck and
pulled off.

We were on the road for about fifteen minutes before he started
talking. "You've really grown," he laughed nervously. "I wasn't expecting
you to be so tall." He paused for me to say something, but I remained
silent.

"I live just outside Asheville," he said. "I think you'll like it. I'll go
to school with you tomorrow and get you enrolled. What are you now? A
junior?" When I grunted and rolled on my side toward the window, he stopped
talking. I fell asleep and didn't wake up until the truck came to a stop
about four and a half hours later.

I sat up and looked out the window at what I assumed was his `new' home. It
was a tri-level house in what appeared to be a new development. Except for
different landscaping, most of the homes looked the same.

"Well, here it is," my father said as he got out of the car. "Karen and the
kids are waiting to meet you."

I muttered softly, "Wonderful." The front door opened, and a woman appeared
on the porch. My father waved at her, and she waved back as she squinted
her eyes to get a better look at me in the waning sunlight.

I walked to the back of the truck to retrieve my bags. When my father
attempted to take one from me, I pulled it away and threw it over my
shoulder. He shook his head slightly and headed for the house.

I thought about turning and walking away. The whole idea of staying with
total strangers, including my father, didn't seem realistic. Just because I
had called a teacher a bitch, and now my life was being uprooted. My father
motioned for me to pick up my pace when he turned and noticed I wasn't
behind him.

He smiled at the woman on the porch and introduced us. "This is Karen." She
extended her hand, but I refused to shake it. She looked nothing like my
mother. She was small and petite. I towered over her. She also looked like
she could have been a few years older than my father. I always read that a
man usually leaves his wife for a younger woman. However, when my father
left, I don't think there was another woman involved. At least, I never
heard my parents arguing about anyone else. Most of their arguments dealt
with petty things. I think they just made excuses to argue because they
didn't love each other anymore. One of their last arguments involved the
color of the towels in the guest bathroom.

I pulled my bag tighter over my shoulder and asked, "Where am I going to
sleep?" I brushed past Karen and entered the house. I first entered a
foyer. The living room was on the right, and a large dining room was to the
left. Past the dining room I could see steps leading down to what appeared
to be a family room. At the back of the living room was a staircase that
lead, I presumed, to a hallway where the bedrooms were located.

When I started to walk into the living room, my father grabbed my arm and
stopped me. He pointed towards the family room. "There's a bedroom
downstairs that Karen made up for you."

The house was meticulous, and it was furnished in what appeared new and
expensive furniture. The dining room table was oval shaped with eight
ornate chairs. A crystal chandelier hung overhead. I walked down the steps
into the family room.

Unlike the rest of the house, it looked lived in. There were two leather
sofas in the middle of the room, and a 52 inch big screen television was
against the wall. Several recliners were also located against another
wall. Everything faced the television, so I assumed they spent a lot of
time watching it. A college basketball game was on the screen.

When we entered, two boys who were lying back watching the game, popped
up. Both appeared to be in their teens, probably about my age. They stood
and eyed me suspiciously. One appeared to be about my age, while the other
was just a little younger. They had short blond hair and blue eyes. Under
any other circumstance, I probably would have found them attractive.

"Boys," my father took hold of my arm to introduce me. I immediately pulled
away. "This is my son, Casey." They nodded, but I stood and stared at
them. My father attempted to smile. "You're all about the same age, so I
think you'll get along just fine."

I grunted, pulled my bag over my shoulder and asked, "Where am I going to
sleep?" I intentionally didn't ask where my room was because that would
have given a sense of permanence to my appearance. I planned to leave the
first chance I got. I still had about three hundred dollars in my
pocket. That should buy me a bus ticket to Atlanta.

While the others watched, my father put his hand on my back and attempted
to lead me across the room. I stepped back and shouted, "Don't ever put
your hands on me again." His eyes widened with surprise.

"Take it easy, Casey," he said. He seemed embarrassed by my outburst. Karen
and the two boys watched our exchange.

I don't know what he, or they, expected by my unexpected arrival. I'm sure
that just two days earlier, they were a happy family. The house appeared
comfortable, and the family room looked like a place they enjoyed
together. Now a stranger had been brought into their home. I wasn't even
sure my father had even told them about me until my mother's call. By the
look on everyone's faces, though, it appeared they weren't ready to accept
me.

Karen stepped forward and touched my father lightly on the arm. "Randy,
perhaps I should show him his room." My father moved aside, and I followed
Karen across the room to a closed door. She opened it and turned on a
light. "We fixed this room for you when we heard you were coming to live
with us." I stepped in and looked around. They had hastily turned an
exercise room into a bedroom. A treadmill and weight set were pushed to one
side. On the other side of the room was a single bed and dresser. A poster
of a skateboarder was pinned above the bed.

"All the comforts of home," I muttered nastily as I dropped my bags to the
floor.

Karen smiled and said, "There's a bathroom next door." She looked at her
watch. "It's late, and I'm sure you want to clean up before going to
bed. I'll bring you something to snack on before you go to sleep." She then
quietly closed the door.

I toed off my shoes and lay across the bed, staring up at the ceiling. I
kept asking myself, "Why am I here?" I could tell my father wasn't pleased
with the situation. I would loved to have heard the conversation between
him and my mother when she called and told him she was `dumping' me on him.

For two days, my anger had festered into hate for her. Since the incident
with Rollie, she hadn't even attempted to get along with me. Even though I
was only fourteen, I still understood how hurt and disappointed she was to
find her only son in bed with another boy. However, that was two years
ago. She should have moved on by now. I did everything I could to make her
accept me, but she refused. After a while, I stopped trying. Each day we
grew further and further apart. Now, she had achieved what she always
wanted- to be free of me.

I closed my eyes and tried to sleep. I really wasn't sleepy since I'd been
sleeping all day in the car. However, there was nothing else to do but
sleep. I could hear the television in the outer room, and occasionally one
of the boys would let out a yell. I guess they were still watching the
game. I had no idea what time it was. I had left my cell phone at home when
I left, and I didn't have a watch. There was also no clock in the room. I
suspected it had to be rather late.

I was awakened a little later by a rapping on my door. I didn't answer it,
so a few seconds later, the door opened and Karen peeked inside. She
whispered, "Are you asleep?"

"I was," I replied sarcastically. She entered carrying a tray. "I brought
you something to eat. I figured you might be hungry." She laughed and
added, "I have three boys in the house." Three boys? I only noticed two
when I arrived. She placed the tray on the bed beside me, smiled nervously
and left.

I wanted to refuse the food, but I was starved. I hadn't eaten since my
mother bought lunch at McDonald's. Dad had offered to buy me dinner, but I
pretended to be asleep when he asked.

The food was good. She had made me a tuna salad sandwich on a hoagie
bun. It was loaded with mayonnaise- just the way I like it. She had also
included a big bag of barbeque potato chips and a bowl of chocolate
pudding. It tasted like it was homemade, not store bought. Ten minutes
later, I was placing the empty tray outside the door.

I walked out and looked around. Everyone had gone to bed, and the room was
dimly lit by a nightlight. Remembering what Karen had told me when I
arrived, I went into the bathroom to wash up. A large cotton towel and an
unopened bar of soap was sitting atop the counter. I turned on the shower
and waited for the water to get hot. I then removed my clothing and jumped
inside.

The warmth cascading down my body felt refreshing. My body still ached from
lying on my side and facing the car window all day. I must have showered
for fifteen minutes before turning off the water. Since it was late, I
figured no one else would need hot water.

I slightly opened the shower curtain to reach for my towel. As I felt
around for it, someone placed it in my hand.

I shouted, "Who the hell!" I pulled back the curtain just enough to peek
out. Sitting on the toilet with the seat down was a small boy. He appeared
to be about ten or eleven. He had the widest grin on his face.

"Bet I scared you," he laughed, "Didn't I?" He had long, sandy brown hair.
He wore thin rimmed glasses over a freckled nose. He appeared to be about
5'4" tall with a slight build. He probably didn't weigh 100 pounds, fully
clothed with his shoes on.

I asked, "Who are you?" I closed the curtain and started wiping myself dry.

>From behind the curtain, he giggled and asked, "Who are you?"

When I didn't answer, I could hear him get up from this perch. Seconds
later, he pulled back the shower curtain. I stood naked before him.

"Do you mind?" I asked angrily as I pulled the shower curtain closed. I
continued to dry myself when he suddenly pulled it open again.

"I got two big brothers," he said. "You ain't got nothing I ain't already
seen before."

"Have it your way," I replied as I continued to dry myself off. He stood
and watched me for a few seconds before returning to his seat on the
toilet. He sat down and continued to stare at me.

He said, "You didn't tell me who you are."

I pulled on my underwear, looked down at him and replied, "You didn't tell
me who you are."

He thrust out his hand for me to shake. "I'm Lane, but everyone calls me
Skipper."

"Why they call you Skipper?"

He giggled and responded, "You'll see." When I exited the bathroom and
headed back to my room, the small boy skipped behind me.

I started to close my door, but he grabbed it and came inside. He stood and
looked around. "Hey," he exclaimed, "What happened to all the stuff in
here?" He sat on the bed and bounced on it. "Is this your room now?"

I took a clean shirt out of my backpack and pulled it on over my
head. "Listen," I stopped. "What did you say your name is?"

He grinned broadly and announced, "Skipper."

"No," I replied. "Your real name? What is it again?"

"Lane," he responded, "But everyone calls me Skipper. You can call me
Skipper, too."

"I'd rather call you Lane," I said.

"Why?"

I quickly scanned his body. He grinned as he watched me. I asked, "How old
are you? Ten or eleven?"

He started laughing. "No, silly," he giggled. "I'm twelve, almost
thirteen."

He giggled louder when I said, "Really? You don't look that old."

"I hear that a lot," he replied. He giggled again. "Mom says I'm a late
bloomer." He pulled down his pajama bottoms. "Look. I don't even have any
hair on my willy yet."

I looked away and said, "I'll just take your word for it."

"It's okay," he said. "I saw your willy. I ain't afraid to show you my
willy."

I looked down at him and laughed. He looked so sweet and innocent. "Boys
shouldn't be showing other boys their willy."

"Why? We each got a willy. Some are just bigger than others." He pulled his
pajamas out again and looked inside. "Mine's kind of little. Curtis said I
look like a little girl." He rose and stood before me. "Do I look like a
little girl to you?"

I reached out and ruffle his hair. "No," I laughed. "You don't look like a
little girl to me."

"Good," he replied. "I'm glad I don't look like a little girl." He got up
and looked inside my backpack. "You got any candy in here?"

"No," I replied as I pulled the bag from his hands. "You sure do ask a lot
of questions."

He shrugged his shoulders and sat back down beside me. "I guess so." He
looked up at me. "So. What are you doing here? You homeless or something?"

I looked around the room for a clock. "Shouldn't you be in bed? Isn't it
kind of late?"

"Probably," he replied as he got up and walked over to a stepper and began
playing around on it. "I don't sleep too good."

I stood and walked over to him. "Why don't you sleep well?"

He started stepping faster on the machine. "Mom says I'm a ball of energy."
He stopped stepping and gave me a sad look. "I gotta take pills for it."

"What about school?" I asked. "What grade are you?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. I'm in special classes. I don't
think we got a grade." He looked sadly at me again. "Curtis says I'm in the
retarded classes." He started stepping on the machine again. "I don't even
know what that means."

He got off the machine and stood in front of me. "Do you know what that
word means?"

I tousled his brown hair. "It means you're a very special person."

His eyes lit up. "Is that why I'm in special classes?"

I knelt down and looked into his face. "Yes," I said. "Now, don't you think
you should go to bed?"

When I stood, he hugged me tightly. "I like you," he said. "Can I sleep
down here with you tonight?"

I took his hand and led him to the door. "I think you should sleep in your
room. Okay?"

"Okay," he replied cheerfully as he hugged me again. I smiled as I watched
him skip across the family room and race up the stairs.

* * * * * *

This story is updated weekly at my website: www.themustardjar.com

Send comments to: ronyx@themustardjar.com


Make a generous donation today to the Nifty Archives.