Date: Wed, 28 Mar 2001 22:10:34 EST From: Justin69SK@aol.com Subject: Luke's Secret Art 7 Luke's Secret Art Chapter 7 (SCtxt) March 21, 2001 Written By: Justin Case ------------ Disclaimer: This story is written about young gay love. If it is illegal for you to be here, you know what to do. This story is fiction, any similarities to real people, places, or things is coincidental. The author, his editors, and the web site publishers accept no responsibility for actions that happen before or after you read this material. Remember that you should never try these things at home, unless you know what you're doing and do them safely. ------------ Words from our author: I want to begin with thanking you all so much for your constant stream of support. I can't begin to express my gratitude for your letters and thoughts. It is an honor and a privilege to have you all read my work. Write me or IM me at Justin69SK@aol.com if you want. I want to get on my soapbox; I haven't done that lately. You can fast forward if you like. My faithful readers, in my long absence, I have had time to observe the world. Oh I know it's only from my little corner, or as an old friend would say, "from my little lily pad in the vast pond". I haven't been amused with what I've seen. There is so much anger, so much hate around me. I can't begin to imagine where it is all coming from. I find myself saying things like, it must be a lack of moral fiber due to the breakdown of the family, or the bombardment of violence from our media. I even began to blame it on full moons. When I began to blame the Ides of March, I knew something was wrong. I am today, and just for today (one day at a time from now on), accepting my part. I am going to start a change from within myself. I am going to accept people, places, and things as they are, for I can not change them. I can, however, change myself. So when others are rude and thoughtless, I will meet them with patience and understanding. When others are greedy and selfish, I will examine my motives and myself, and I will act generous and selfless. When I am faced with hate, I will return love. Perhaps my actions will be met with contempt; I'll pray if they are. I'll pray for those who do not understand. I can only accept responsibility for my actions. I hope that at least one of you will do the same. On a side note: I reviewed the story line of Luke's Secret Art. I forgot where I was with it. Let's make some corrections to my mistakes. This story began around Christmas 1999. Luke began telling the tale in April 2000 and said it took place a few months ago, not five years ago. When he went to see the Boston Pops he was ten, not five. These discrepancies appeared in the first two chapters. I should probably mention his hair. First, he has wavy brown hair; next he's doing it in a spike to make him appear to be taller. Instead of a spike, he did it in a Mohawk, both in an effort to look taller and an act of individuality. With all that said and done, let's get on with the story. ------------ As I stood in the reading room, I noticed Travis standing silently by my side. Just as I was going to ask him to spend the night, the chimes of our doorbell rang. Helga must have gone to the door before answering my call, because she hadn't responded. "Luke, are you going to be all right?" Travis broke the silence that seemed like an eternity. "Um, yeah. I was wondering though. Do you think you could call your mom and spend the night?" I answered from my deep thoughts and asked. "I was going to suggest it. I just didn't want to be too pushy," he sheepishly responded. Just as I was going to respond, Helga entered the room. I noticed again how terrible she looked. I felt bad for her, I knew how much she cared for my father and family. She always made sure her attire was impeccable, as was her general hygiene. Her appearance made it obvious she was devastated, but as far as she was concerned, her responsibilities to Mom and me took precedence to her caring for herself. "Mr. Luke, you rang? Also, a Miss Tacano is here," Helga said in that thick German accent of hers. "Thank you, Helga. Could you send her in?" I said, as the maid quickly turned to comply. "Oh, and Helga," I called after her; she turned back to face me. "Could you please give our regrets to the others? While my mom and I appreciate their condolences, we need some privacy at this time." "Certainly, Mr. Rogers. Will there be anything else?" Helga replied, the first time she ever called me Mr. Rogers. "Yes, Helga, Mr. Jenson may be an overnight guest, would you prepare one of the guestrooms for him?" I requested, amazed how the formality I earlier complained about was so contagious. "Why, of course, Mr. Rogers," the fairly rounded woman with black hair answered before exiting to send Miss Tacano in. Miss Tacano came into the reading room; I had seen her often before. She had been my father's personal assistant for some time now. I never knew why, but for some reason I never liked her. "Oh, Luke, I am so sorry about your dad," Cassandra, plastically sounding, told me, as she crossed the room to hug me. "Yes, we all are," I said coolly, as I was released from her embrace. "He had me taking a deposition at another office. I just heard. I came as fast as I could," she explained in that phony kind of tone so many insincere people use. "I see." "I guess he was going to his bank," she reported. "I suppose," I said, wondering what she was talking about. My dad didn't do the banking; it was another of the rules he had. He always let my mother do all the family banking. "Well, I just wanted to express my sympathy to your mother," she gushed on. "Unfortunately, Mother is not to be disturbed. I will be certain to let her know you called on her," I said as subtly as I could. "I see. I won't keep you," my late father's Spanish assistant said, as she left. "Who was that bitch?" Travis quipped. "You noticed too?" I asked. "Mmm, she puts the `B' in itch," my new friend observed. We both sat down in the overstuffed pink chairs that were placed in the exact spot they were the day that the decorator left. The two chairs were angled with the Queen Anne table in between. I began to think about my dad. My eyes watered up. Travis allowed me space, he said nothing as he sat in the chair beside mine. I couldn't help feeling bad that I hadn't seen my dad his last week. I also felt guilty about how I purposely avoided him the day before, while I was conniving a plot to get to be with Travis overnight. I felt shame in my actions. The tears flowed down my cheeks, as I sat there quietly next to Travis. "Mr. Rogers." I heard Helga's voice; I looked up with a start. "Yes?" "I put the fold out bed in your room. I thought it might be better if Mr. Jenson slept in there.' "Thank you, Helga." "Maybe you should retire, Mr. Rogers. You look exhausted; you'll need your rest," our family maid said, with all the affection that I had come to know from her. "I have to call Grandmother. Could you bring me the portable phone?" I remembered `no phone in the reading room', the decorator had told us. It was the only room in the house without one. "Of course," the German woman said, as she scurried to get the phone. "Do you mind sleeping in my room with me?" I asked Travis. "I'd rather. I didn't think much of sleeping in the guestroom. I want to be close to you. I do need to call home, though," Travis said, his voice full of concern. His green eyes darted around the room, too embarrassed to look at me with the tears in my eyes, I surmised. "I'd rather have you sleep close to me. Could you ask if you could stay for a few more days? There is going to be so much to do. I don't even know how I'll get through this." "I'll call work too. I didn't like the job anyway. I'll quit; it was just for Christmas," Travis said, in that mile a minute way I was becoming accustomed to. It had only been a couple of days but it seemed like he and I had been friends for a lifetime. I remember thinking how strange this all was. I meet someone, a person I think I couldn't live without, lose my father, all just days before Christmas. Life is funny. "Mr. Rogers, I have your grandmother on the phone for you," Helga said, as she entered the reading room, with the cordless in her pudgy hand. I nodded. "Hello. Grandmother? Yes, this is Luke. Grandmother, I have some bad news. Are you sitting? It's Father. There was a terrible accident earlier this morning," I said into the phone. "Yes, Luke. I understand. Is he all right?" Grandmother asked, with nervousness in her voice. "Grandmother," was all I could say, before I broke down. "Oh, Luke. No. My Billy. Dear God, my Billy. Luke, I will be there as soon as possible. Let Betty, I mean your mom, know." I shut the phone off. Travis took it from my hand and pulled me up to my feet. He embraced me while I cried on his shoulder. "Come with me, Mr. Jenson, bring Luke with you. I'll show you to his room," Helga said. I felt myself being led away, I mean I heard and saw everything but felt like I was outside, looking in at it all. I was in shock. How is it everything happens so quickly? I mean, Aerosmith has a song, 'In the Blink of an Eye'. I guess I understand. I may not accept the cards that are dealt me, but I must never forget life can change in a second. Once I had been escorted to my bedroom and realized where I was, I came back. I was still distraught, but fully aware of my surroundings. I was so thankful for Travis. I showed him where everything was. He used the phone on my desk and called his mom. She gave him permission to stay and even offered to bring him some clothes. It was decided she would come by the next day. We sat in my room for a few hours. We expanded on our lives' stories with each other. We talked about painting. I felt bad but we even joked a little bit. I mean, should I have been joking at such a time? It was only six o'clock, but felt like midnight. I heard a quiet knock on my door. "Yes?" I called. The door opened and Helga carried in a tray of food. "Here you men go. I brought some dinner up. Mrs. Rogers doesn't want to be disturbed. She told me to tell you she'd see us in the morning," Helga reported in her German accent, as she set the silver tray on the table next to my window seat. "Thank you, Helga," I said. "You're welcome. Mr. Rogers, if you don't mind? I think, I'll retire as well." "That will be fine, Helga." "I'll get the tray in the morning." "That's fine, I can bring it down after we've finished," I offered. She said nothing and left the two of us. Travis just stared at me. "What, is my dinner hanging off my chin?" I asked. We both laughed. "Hey, Travis, I think I'm going to take a shower. You can play around on the computer if you want," I told him after we finished our meal. Helga had been extremely generous. "No problem, Buddy. Could I take one after you?" "Sure." I couldn't help thinking, I'd rather have him take one with me. I went to my closet and looked for a warmup suit to wear. I like to wear casual clothes in the evening. I saw my dark green nylon Adidas running attire hanging in my large closet, looking rather forgotten, I might add. "Oh, my God!" Travis exclaimed. "I thought I had a fetish for clothes." He excitedly beamed as he checked out my closet. "Your closet is bigger than our bathroom," he observed. I could feel my face as it went red. "Really?" "Oh, man. I am like, so jealous," Travis, admiring my threads, admitted. "Hey, you can borrow anything you like." "Really? You mean it?" "Absolutely." I took my warmup suit and headed for the bathroom, while Travis inspected my wardrobe. I felt a little self-conscious, I hoped he wouldn't think I was all into myself. I didn't want to lose him as a friend. I felt so, so, so...well, I just liked him and wanted him to like me. After we were both showered, and Travis was dressed in my navy blue Nike sweat suit, I felt exhausted. I guess it must have shown in my eyes. "You're tired, maybe we should turn in, Buddy," Travis said, his voice full of concern. "Yeah." We both shared the bathroom, again to brush our teeth. We didn't have a bubble contest though. Hey, you can't have everything, can you? When we returned to my room, I took off my clothes, stripped down to only my Tommy boxers, I noticed Travis watching my every move. I couldn't help but watch him as he took off my sweats and stood before me in just his American Eagle Outfitters. He watched me as I climbed into my large double bed. I noticed his face seemed to say he was perplexed about something. "What's the matter, Buddy?" I liked it when he called me Buddy, I hoped he liked it in return. "Well, this fold out bed looks kind of old, I mean, well, kind of worn out. Would you mind if I shared your bed?" Travis asked, all seriousness in his voice. "No, not at all. I don't mind if you don't," I said, and truly meant. Boy! Did I mean it. "Cool," he said, and jumped in my bed. I climbed in the bed alongside of my best friend. I had to fight my urges. I just wanted to climb all over him. I turned off the light next to the bed, the room was totally dark. I don't have a night light, and keep my drapes closed at night. We lay next to each other, I could hear his breathing. I felt his foot brush against mine, he didn't move it away. I pushed my foot closer to his, I tried to be smooth about it, kind of like it was subconscious, even though it wasn't. "Luke?" he whispered. "Yeah?" "Can I ask you something?" "Sure." "Well...it's..." After a long pause, I asked him, "What, Travis, what is it?" "Actually, I want to tell you something, I just don't know how to say it." I thought to myself, and hoped it was what I wanted to tell him. He certainly was keeping me in suspense. I couldn't tell him my secret, I was too afraid of losing him. I hoped what he was going to tell me was what I wanted to tell him. Instead, he said nothing. After a few minutes of waiting for him to speak up, I couldn't stand it any longer. "Travis?" ------------ Well, for now, my fine friends, that will be it. I hope you don't mind me leaving you the way I did. I just wanted to lighten up the somber mood. As always you may e-mail me or IM me, the address is still Justin69SK@aol.com I would like to thank my editors, Writer Editor Sarah, Creative Editor Joey, and Final Copy Editor Ed, for all the work they do. Keep in touch-- Just, Justin