Date: Fri, 6 Apr 2001 16:45:11 EDT
From: Justin69SK@aol.com
Subject: Michael's Secret Love Chapter 13

April 5, 2001

Michael's Secret Love
Chapter 13

Written By:  Justin Case

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Disclaimer: This material is to be viewed by mature audiences only.  It
does not contain violence, you won't see any heads being blown off.  You
won't find any blood and gore in this material; that would be offensive and
possibly lead to mental trauma.  No, instead you will be taken on a
journey.  A journey about love is what you will find here.  Yes, love
between young men.  It is not an attempt to convert you.  It is merely an
attempt to get a message of hope out to the reader.  If someone should
stumble upon it, that isn't gay, perhaps it will show that person what it's
like to be gay in our society.  This story is fiction and should be read by
people of legal age, as it does contain graphic sexual content.  It is a
creation of fiction and any similarity to real people, places, or things is
coincidental.

------------

SoapBox: Hey, my peeps, my dawgs, my faithful, WASSUP?  It's me again and
I'm still on a roll.  Yep, I didn't finish my venting on that virus yet.
Hehe.  If you want you can fast forward, it won't bother me.  LOL.  OK, if
you follow my stories you know I recently was sent a virus and lost all my
work and mail.  Along with that came the reloading of all my programs,
Internet connections (AOL), and a new virus scan, of course.  What a bitch
it all was.  I don't know about any of you people, but I'm not exactly a
computer wizard.  Quite the opposite, I relate my computer knowledge to my
driving a car.  I get in my car, turn the key; if it starts, great, if it
doesn't, I call a mechanic.  Oh, I know how to jump-start it, put oil and
gas in it, things like that.  I couldn't tell you about the transmission
and the things that make it work.

Anyways, I had lots of fun reloading my computer.  Once I was all done, I
began to 'drive' it.  It didn't do that before.  How come I can't do that
now?  What the fuck is wrong with this damn thing?  All were common themes
in my home immediately after 'fixing' the beast.  I played with this and
played with that, I read help manuals, I went online for help.  Did you
ever notice that what your problem is, is never listed anywhere in those
help guides?  I mean it, how come my situation seems to be unique?  I
certainly can't be the only one that experienced this problem before.

I finally decided to get on the phone and consult with the 'EXPERTS'.
First I called Hewlett Packard, the manufacturer of this fine beast.  I
consulted my help window located on my desktop, clicked on HP.  Guess what?
They had every other manufacturer's 800 number listed so you could call,
they didn't have their own.  BASTARDS.

OK, I'll call Microsoft, they're the ones that wrote these programs that
came with my HP.  Surely they'll help, I thought.  Wrong!  I was rebuffed
at my feeble attempt.  I was told unless I bought my software from a retail
outlet I couldn't talk to a technician.  My software came with the
computer.  Of course, that came after the 'Thank you for calling Microsoft.
If you want to have this call in English, press 1.'  I press 1.  Then you
get, 'If you want customer assistance, please press 2.'  I press 2.
'Currently all our operators are experiencing a high call volume, please
remain on the line, as you are a valued customer and your call will be
answered in the next available sequence.' If I was so valued how come I
have to listen to a machine?

I'll continue this saga in my next SoapBox, I assure you.

In the meantime, I want to thank you all for your constant support.  I love
getting your letters, and IMs, it keeps it all real for me.  I want to
thank you all for checking out my web site.  What's that, you don't know my
addys?  Justin69SK@aol gets you to my mail and IM, while WWW
http://Justinscorner.homestead.com gets you to my web site.

Thanks for letting me share.  As always,

Just,
Justin
------------

"Michael?  Michael."  I heard my mother's call, as she came in the back
door.

James and I were in my bedroom, all washed up and refreshed from our frisky
encounter in the shower.  It was time to get back to the other world, the
one where we had to keep our love secret.  I wanted to tell my folks, I
just didn't know how.  Perhaps it was fear.  I thought about it so many
times.  As we got up to see what my mother wanted, another of those fucking
leaves fell off the tree.  I have to get that monstrosity out of my
bedroom.

"You called me, Mom?" I shouted up the hall, as I walked to the kitchen
with James in tow.

"No, I called you Michael.  I'm Mom."  Always the jokester, just like my
dad, my mother couldn't resist the simple joke.

"Could you boys help carry in the groceries?  I'll fix us something to eat,
I'm famished."

"I thought you just said you were Mom."  I couldn't help myself.

"Oh, you," Mom said as she pulled my forehead to her lips and kissed it.

James and I bounced down the three steps on the cement porch to our house.
Our spirits were high, we were so much in love.  I couldn't help think how
beautiful my dirty blonde lover was, especially in the sunlight.  I
wondered what it was that he saw in me.  I mean, not only was James
handsome, he was smart and trusting.  When I'm with James I feel like I'm
complete.  He rounds off my rough spots and polishes my blemishes.  I know
it sounds cliché, but it is the way I feel.

After we had the groceries all put up and Mom had fixed up something to
eat, we decided to drive down to the hospital.  The three of us decided to
check on Eugene.  Actually, Mom had to drive us.  She did say she had
wanted to visit with him too.  We left a note for Dad, in the usual place.

About a mile before our exit off I-95 we got stuck in traffic.  Apparently
there had been an accident.  How come the accident happened in the
southbound lanes and the people in the northbound lanes were backed up too?
Oh the things I wonder.  I hoped no one was seriously injured.

"Looks like we're stuck here," Mom said, breaking the silence.

"Mmm," James simply groaned.

I looked out the window and watched the other people on the highway with
us.  I love to check out other people.  I try to imagine what they are
thinking.  I was noticing this rather robust gentleman in the vehicle next
to ours.  He was staring off into space.  While I was watching him, he
picked his nose.  Gross, I thought.  How could someone do something so
personal as pick his or her nose in front of other people?  Then I
wondered, what made it gross?  I mean, it was a normal bodily function that
mucus is formed, it does dry up in the nasal passages and it is
irritating. How else do you get rid of it?  It still grossed me out.  I
wondered what it must have been like before we were civilized.  Before the
invention of tissue, what did man do with hard snot stuck in his nose?  Oh
the things I think.

"Michael, James, do either of you have any idea why Eugene tried to kill
himself?" my mom asked, breaking my train of thought.

I thought.  I wondered what James was thinking.  How were we going to
answer her?  I've never really lied to my parents.  I always changed the
subject, or answered in vague terms if asked something I didn't want to
discuss.  I couldn't think of a way to answer her.  I didn't feel it was my
place to tell anyone what was so personal to Eugene.

"Not really."  That's how I left it.  A non-answer that certainly wasn't a
lie.

"Well, I was just wondering.  I read an article last week.  It said that
the number one reason teens commit suicide is because they're homosexual.
I hope Eugene isn't homosexual," Mom said.  Her words just hung in the air.

"I'm just glad he's all right," James finally responded.

"I would just hope if he was homosexual he would know where to get help,"
she continued.

I looked into the back seat to see James' face; I had to see his reaction.
I couldn't seem to figure out what he was thinking.  I really didn't know
what my mother was trying to ask or say.  We never really discussed sex in
our house, much less gay sex.  Was she trying to open a dialog with us on
the subject?  Neither James nor I said a word.

"I read in that same article that many are homosexual.  I feel sorry for
them.  It must be difficult in today's world.  We didn't have so much hate
and violence when I was younger.  I mean, children today are bringing guns
to school and shooting other people.  Where does all this anger come from?"
She was on a roll.

"Gee, Mom, I don't really know.  We don't have any kids like that in Bonnie
Eagle," I said with confidence.

"You just never know, now do you, Michael?  Look at Eugene.  Would you have
thought he was capable of wanting to kill himself?  Did you know he was so
distraught?"

"Not really," I replied, again with a non-answer.

"Michael, you know, if anything was bothering you, you can come to your
father and me.  That goes for you too, James," she said in a comforting
voice.

Finally the car started moving again.  We arrived at the hospital without
saying another word to each other.  As we walked in to the doors, James
smacked the back of my head.

"Hey, watch it, buster," I chided.

"Watch it yourself," James sputtered.  I got the joke.  He meant with
Eugene.

"Do you guys want to stay here for a while?  I only wanted to stay about a
half hour, I have to cook dinner, we're having tacos and burritos," Mom was
saying as we rode the elevator.

"Tacos, burritos?  Are you inviting me?" James quipped.

"Of course, James, you are always welcome in our home," she said with a
smile.

"Well, I kind of wanted to have a few minutes privately with Eugene.  Can
we stay forty- five minutes?" I asked them both.

"Forty-five and no more, you know how your dad hates to eat late."

It was true; the rule in our house was dinner promptly at six.  My father
was very anal about dinner.

I was the first one to walk into Eugene's room; right behind me were my
mother and James.  I looked over to my frail friend as he lay in his
hospital bed.  I noticed his hair was messy, just like mine when I've been
in bed.  I really hate wavy or curly hair, especially on me.  His brown
eyes lit up when he saw us.

"Hey, guys," he beamed.

"How you feeling, Eugene?" I asked.

"Better now that you are here.  My mom is supposed to come down after
dinner.  I was bored," Eugene explained with a tone of sadness in his
voice.

"You're looking good.  Your color is good, I mean," Mom nervously told him.
I could only surmise she was nervous because she didn't know what to say or
how to act.

"Really?  Thank you, Mrs. Martin.  I feel better. I have to see a
psychologist before I can be released, the doctor told me this morning,"
Eugene said; he sounded nervous too.

"I just hope if you ever have something so terrible that you feel you can't
talk to someone else you'll talk to Michael or James, Eugene," Mom stated
gently.

"I think I will.  I'm sorry to put you through all this, Mrs. Martin."

"You have nothing to be sorry for, son."

I looked at James, and he was looking at me; we had a brief silent
conversation.  I asked him what it all meant, he answered he didn't know.
The entire communication was done with our eyes, the way we do sometimes.
I really wondered if my mother was probing in an attempt to let us know we
would be accepted the way we were.  It's tough to live with a secret so
defining, as James and I had.

"Well, I'll leave you boys to talk about whatever it is you boys talk
about.  Eugene, I hope you know you can always come to me if you need
someone to talk to.  I mean it," Mom said, as she turned to walk out of the
room.  Did I see a tear in her eye, I wondered?

"Oh, Michael, James, I'm really sorry for all this.  I just didn't know
where to turn to.  I felt so guilty about being queer.  I thought you'd
tell everyone.  I was so afraid of what some of the guys at school would do
to me," Eugene babbled nervously.

"Well, now you know we all have the same secret.  We don't know how to tell
others either," James said.

"Do we have to?  Tell others, I mean?" I asked.

"I don't know if we have to.  I sure would feel better if I could talk to
others like me.  I feel like I can't identify with people.  I just don't
seem to fit in.  I feel so out of place all the time," Eugene chattered
away, making so much damn sense too.

"I don't think we need to put a sign on our backs.  Don't you just think
for now we should keep all this between ourselves?  We have Mrs. Bellevue
and Father Jones if we need to get advice," James said; he always had the
answers.

"Yeah, you're right, James," Eugene agreed.

"I just feel so guilty sometimes, keeping this all bottled up and from my
parents," I told them both.

"I know, I feel the same way.  I have to admit I'm terrified about my
Baptist minister father's reaction.  Could you imagine?" James asked,
trying to get us to visualize his dad's reaction.

"My mom took it all in stride," Eugene said rather proudly.

"Well, everyone is different, Eugene," James snapped.  Why was he angry, I
wondered?

"The other thing is, you two have each other.  I don't have anyone.  I love
Michael, but he's taken.  Don't I deserve someone?" Eugene asked, with
tears in his eyes.

I looked around room 501 of the Portland General Hospital.  I tried to
focus my mind on something else.  I notice the plaques again, the one under
the window read 'In loving memory of our daughter Nicole'.  I couldn't help
but speculate on Nicole and her parents; they must have been devastated to
lose their daughter.  I couldn't begin to fathom how Nicole died.  I hoped
it was painless, I hate suffering.  I hate to see others suffer.

"Yes, Eugene, you do.  You do deserve someone to love; you deserve what
everyone else does.  It's your right as a human being."  Wow, did that
really come out of me?

"Michael, it's dangerous.  You are opening Pandora's Box if you start to
tell people how we are. So many won't understand, so many don't want to,"
James pointedly retorted.

"I think it's dangerous not to tell people.  I agree we have to be careful
who we tell, but I can't get over the fact why," I said with some contempt.

"Hey, you guys, please don't get upset."  Eugene brought us back to why we
were there in the first place.

"I'm sorry, Eugene," James said as he reached for our friend's hand.

"Me too.  I really don't have any answers, just a bunch of questions," I
confessed.

"Hey, Mikey, are you ready for the spring concert?" Eugene snapped.

I chuckled, he did have a way to change the subject and lighten up the
conversation.  James smiled too.

"No," I admitted.

"Well, you better practice.  I love the song, 'Where is Love?'  Do you
think it may fall from skies above?  Eugene laughed.  It was good to see
him smile.

"Nah, it's just a song," I chuckled again as I answered him.  Then I
contemplated the origin of the play 'Oliver'.

"Well, you both better be going.  I'm going to come to the concert.  You
better be good," Eugene said with a huge grin on his face.

"Yeah.  Eugene, I wanted to talk to you privately first though."  I looked
at James as I said it.  He seemed to understand; he left us in the room
alone.

"What is it, Michael?" Eugene asked, his brown eyes full of question marks.

"Well, it's just... well, you see..."  I stammered.  Where were the words?

"What, what is it, Michael?  You can tell me."

"Well, I told James about what we did in the car," I blurted it out.

"I am sorry about that, Michael.  I really am.  I shouldn't have done that.
I just couldn't seem to control myself."  Eugene began to sob.

"No, Eugene.  Please, it's not that I'm mad.  I'm just as confused as you.
I let you do it.  I liked it, in fact.  I just felt bad because I love
James and don't know why I let it happen."

"Oh, Michael, what makes us do things?"

"I really don't know.  I really don't."  I bent down and kissed him on the
forehead, just like my mother had done to me earlier.  I know how good it
felt when she did it to me.

"I don't either.  Is James upset?"

"No, he understands."

"Michael, I really do love you.  I hope I can find another person to love."

I could hear the loneliness in his voice.  I detected his confusion and
related with it.  I wished I had the answers.  I hoped that someday soon I
would find them.  I just stood there for a few silent moments, brushing
Eugene's hair with my hand.

"Hey, you better go," he finally spoke up.

"Yeah, I better.  I'll come tomorrow.  I promise.  I'll bring James."

"OK, I'd like that, Michael.  Thank you."

"No problem.  Eugene?"

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

"Thanks, man, that means a lot."

I turned to leave; I paused for a moment and looked back at Eugene in the
bed.  I wanted to savor the moment.  It was the beginning of what I hoped
to be a true and lasting friendship.  We were all naked 'spiritually' with
each other now, the three of us.  He smiled again; he smiled at me as I
walked out of the room.  I nodded and smiled back.

Mom and James were standing in the hall just outside the door.  I looked at
them both; I could tell they hadn't been comfortable being alone with each
other.  Neither knew really what to say to the other.  I kind of smiled
about it on the inside, hell, I didn't know what to say now about the whole
thing myself.

"You guys ready to go?" I bubbled.

"I'm famished," Mom said.

"There you go again, I thought you were Mom."

We all laughed as we walked down the hospital hall to the elevator.

------------

Well, there you have it.  Are you happy with it?  I hope so.  Don't forget,
if you want to e-mail me or IM me the address is Justin69Sk@aol.com and if
you get the hankering to take a gander at my web site the addy is
www.http://justinscorner.homestead.com I love getting mail.

What's that?  NO, this is not the end of the story.  Until we meet again on
this journey of life, my friend, I leave you steadfast in your endeavors.

I'd like to thank you all.  I'd especially like to thank my editors Sarah
and Ed.  Especially Ed, he's the final editor.  He also is often the voice
of reason.  Thanks, Ed, for all you do.

As Always,
Just,
Justin

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