Date: Sat, 14 Apr 2001 09:53:16 EDT
From: Justin69SK@aol.com
Subject: Michael's Secret Love Chapter 14

April 13, 2001

Michael's Secret Love
Chapter 14

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Written By:  Justin Case

Edited By:  Sarah

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Disclaimer: This story contains sexual content and you should be of legal
age to view it.  It is a love story involving teen- age boys and their
coming of age.  The story is fiction based on fact, if it sounds real that
is because it is.  This tale is the sole property of the author's and is
protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America.  The
writer, his editors, and the web site publisher accept no responsibility
for your actions.

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SoapBox: Heeello, my peeps, and here we go again!  It is so good to hear
from so many of you, I really mean it.  I hope you don't mind me sharing a
couple of my latest IM's and letters with you all.  If you do, fast
forward; I won't be upset.  I got an IM yesterday, from a name I have heard
from only a few times before.  He was happy to tell me he had just finished
chapter 4 of Justin's Story.  "Hey Justin," his first message flashes,
"Hello," I send back.  "Just finished with chap 4 of your story," his reply
came.

"Really, which one?"  I asked.  "Justin's, so tell me, did you ever have
sex with your step-brothers?"  He bluntly insults me.  I found his tactics
rather repulsive and prayed for him.  I prayed he would learn compassion
and understanding so he could get along better in the world.  Just so you
all know, my half-brothers are much younger than I, and I have never had
any sexual interest in them what so ever.  Incest is not for me!  It is
just something I have no interest in.

Early this morning, just after midnight, I got a long letter from a young
reader.  It seemed he was in love with another boy.  His best friend, who
happened to be a girl, loved the same boy the writer did.  He went on to
tell me that his best friend asked him to fix her up with his secret love.
He willingly did, but found himself in a confusing situation.  It seemed
his secret love liked to flirt and get touchy-feely with him.

My good friends unless you are on even playing ground with another; NEVER
force yourself on someone else.  Don't assume because someone flirts with
you it is more than that.  If you are thinking of making a sexual advance
with someone you need to be up- front and say what is really on your mind.
All people are not gay, even if they do act it.  You can't wish someone to
be gay.  Either they're gay or they're not.

The letter writer went on to say he was jealous of the two he had fixed up,
and really wanted to be with the boy.  He also said the three of them
enjoyed a wonderful relationship.  I advised him to leave well enough
alone.  I couldn't understand why in today's world anyone would want to do
something to jeopardize the rare commodity of friendship.  I told the young
lad, if his secret love truly had feelings for him, eventually he would
come around, or he may never.  Either way, I feel all the letter writer
could do was remain a friend with the two, and wait until whatever happens
is mutual.

I also wanted to take a quick minute to tell you all of a great discovery I
have just made.  Hehe, you'll all laugh at me I know.  I just found a great
section in the Nifty Archives, yes there are more than just High School, I
ran across the Historical section.  I know, you all knew it was there.
Wow, is all I can say.  There were these two really great stories I read,
"Sharpshooter" by Willie B and "No Greater Love" by a guy named Steve.
Both these stories take place during the civil war era, but are so real.
If you liked "Tom Sawyer" or "Gone With the Wind" I guarantee you will fall
in love with these truly fascinating masterpieces.  I was so jealous of the
talent these two writers displayed; I can't begin to express it in words.
I hope you all read these two long love stories and become as enchanted as
I did.

Well my good friends enough of my ramblings, until next time.  Just, Justin.

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I could feel my stomach as it did flips, I was weak in the knees; the
beginnings of a headache, slight but there, were the symptoms I was
experiencing.  It was just hours away from my solo in the spring concert.
I had practiced so much that day and the one before my voice box felt
strained.  I was scared; I couldn't shake the fear of hitting a bad note in
front of half the town of Covington.  I was experiencing the jitters to say
the least.

"Michael, do you have to wear that tie?"  Came my mother's complaint.

"Huh, what?"  I wondered why my tie was so important, if this was her way
of making me feel good, forget it.

"I bought you a new one, didn't you see it?  I put it on your seat at the
dinner table."  My mother went on.

"No, I'll put it on now though."  I figured it would be easier to comply
with her wishes, which tie I wore was the least of my concerns.

I had been standing in the kitchen looking out the window that was over the
sink, alone in my nervous thoughts, so I kind of welcomed the distraction.
I walked into the dining room and noticed a boutonniere placed on the
table, alongside of it was a new tie.  I became a little emotional; tears
welled up in my eyes.  I was so thankful to have such a loving and caring
set of parents.  The fragrance from the carnation with babies breath and
fern was slight, but favorable.  My mother came to my rescue and pinned it
to my navy blue sports coat lapel.  I was glad she did; I would have been
all thumbs trying to do it myself.

My mother gave me a quick peck on the cheek after she had placed the
flower; she could never resist giving me a kiss, no matter how much I felt
like I was too old.  She took a step back and gave me an admiring look.

"When did you get to be so handsome?"

"I'm not, you need glasses, Mom."

"Michael, of course you are.  You look just like you father did when he was
your age, and I fell in love with him."

I blushed and decided to try my luck at changing my tie.  I went into the
bathroom; I didn't want to get too far away from the back door, as I felt
I'd make myself late.  We had almost two hours, but I had this nagging
feeling that I needed to get a move on.

I looked at myself in the mirror while I put on the new tie.  Let me tell
you never to do that, everything is backwards, and it surely confused me
trying to do it with reverse imagery.  I finally had to turn around and
face the shower in order to get the tie appropriately knotted.  I turned
back around and took a look at myself.  The tie my mother had bought was
silk and had a dark blue background that matched my jacket, it also had a
light green print that actually looked good with my eyes.  My frigging hair
was the only thing that disturbed me; it was flipping in all the wrong
directions.  God, I hate my wavy hair, I thought.

Michael, are you all right?"  My father called through the bathroom door.

"Yep, I am.  I'll be right out."

"I thought we'd take a ride over to the boat launch on the Saco.  We can
watch the water go by, and hell who knows, maybe we'll see some Masshole up
our way trying to set sail."  Dad hated people from Massachusetts, he
always poked fun at them.

I actually began to picture someone trying to sail down the Saco River.
The thought alone brought a smile to my face, I noticed how good my smile
looked now that I didn't wear braces.  I continued to check myself out in
the mirror and wondered if and when I should tell my parents my secret.  I
began to think about the reasons to tell them.  Did I just feel compelled
to do it, or was it a necessity?  I pondered the importance of my
sexuality; what it was to me and if it was something of significance to my
parents.  It wasn't like I really knew anything about their sexual
behavior, nor did I want to know.  I finally came to the conclusion that,
unless James and I were going to make a life-time commitment, our current
relationship could remain with the few that knew about it.  I mean after
all, we are just in high school, certainly not ready for the huge
responsibility of marriage.

I began to think about other kids, straight ones.  Did they tell their
parents about their sex lives?  Is my sexual preference who I am, or just a
part of me?  The questions flooded my mind.  I didn't have any of the
answers, just more questions.  I said a small prayer, and then I wondered
if God hated me?  I wondered if I was a sinner.  I reasoned that God had
created me, and he loved me no matter what.  I prayed that I was right, in
my heart I felt I was.

I finally emerged from the bathroom; my eyes had long since dried from the
emotional moment of seeing the corsage on the table.  I was still nervous,
but not all about my performance.  I walked into the dining room and was
immediately blinded by the flash of the camera bulb my father had taken my
picture with.  All I could see were bright spots in my eyes.  I felt a
little flustered, but I still smiled.

"You really think some Masshole might try to set sail in the Saco?"  I
asked my dad with a grin.

"You never know, Mike, you can't be too sure about those people from
mASSortwoSHITS."

Oh, you got to love my dad.  His love for our southern neighbors is really
inspiring.  I think it went back to the Kennedy days.  `Something about
those liberals,' he always said.  I guess those kinds of things caused some
of my confusion about discussing my sexuality, just like some things my
mother would say.  I was always looking for a definitive and exact
statement to let me know I was all right with whom I was.  Instead it
seemed like my parents contradicted themselves, or maybe just sent mixed
messages my way.  I mean, on one hand they seemed to accept Eugene, but my
parents said `It's too bad for him,' almost making it sound like he had
contracted some disease.  In the next breath they would say `It's such a
shame so many young people commit suicide because they're gay."  How was I
to know what they felt?

The three of us drove to the boat launch in silence, my parents sat in the
front seats while I sat in the back behind my mother.  The sun was still
out, because we had just turned the clocks ahead.  I really love this time
of the year; all the grass starts to come back and the birds return from
their vacation down south.  The whole world seems to come alive with
vibrancy, and I seem to come alive with it.  In my mind, there is nothing
as beautiful as the Saco River winding through its banks, traveling south
to the Atlantic.  In the summer months the river is a mere stream, however
in the spring it becomes a fast moving tributary.  The mixture of the
thawed winter snow and then the heavy spring time rain causes the mighty
Saco to rise high above its normal crest line.  We watched the water rush
over the rocks and boulders; the caps of the waves were white.  I watched,
in amazement, the fury that nature unleashed, and hoped I'd see a boat go
by.

"We better get going, don't want our star to be late," dad said.

"No we certainly don't," Mom agreed.

As we started on our way to the school, I felt the car rock back and forth
over the gravel road that led out of the park of sorts where the boat
launch was.  `Ole Man Winter' had delivered his blows to it and caused ruts
and wash outs.  I didn't know if the motion of the vehicle or my nerves
caused the feeling in my stomach.  I decided it was probably a combination
of the two.  I was glad when we finally reached the pavement and the car
rode smoother.

Mr. Stomley greeted me as I walked into the chorus room; he looked more
nervous than I did.  He had asked me to come earlier than the rest of the
group; he wanted me to do a run through.  I was as ready as I would ever
be, I finally surmised.

"Michael Joseph, are you ready?"  Stomley's baritone voice boomed off the
walls of the chorus room.

"As ready as ever," my simple reply.

"OK, let me give you a note and let her rip."  He took a seat at his piano
and stuck the middle C.

"Where ere ere ere ere ere is love?  Does it fall from skies above? Is it
underneath the willow tree that I've been dreaming of?  Where ere ere ere
ere ere is she?  Who I close my eyes to see?  Will she ever know the sweet
hello that's meant for only she? Where ere ere ere ere ere is love?"  I
sang with all my heart, my voice rose from the depths of my stomach.  I
didn't know where my strength came from, but, for the first time in my
life, I felt the song.  I couldn't believe my own ears as I sang with all
my soul.

Mr. Stomley rose to his feet when I had finished.  His face was a picture
of pure amazement; he strode across the room toward me, his long arms
opened wide.  When he reached me, he embraced me, I felt a little
uncomfortable, yet at the same time, I appreciated his warmth.

"Michael, that was breathtaking.  You have come a long way.  I am so very,
very proud of you.  You will knock `em dead.  Do you find it difficult to
sing with such emotion?"

I thought, what an odd question.  I wondered what he had meant.  So what
better way to find out, than to just ask.

"Why would I find it so difficult?"  I asked.

"Well, it's just that I thought… well I don't know… I guess I thought
you and James were like an item.  I never said anything because it's really
none of my business, but I am your teacher and very little escapes me, my
fine lad."  Mr. Stomley watched my face for a reaction.  He then winked at
me.

"Mr. Stomley are you asking me if I'm gay?"

"No, Michael, I'm telling you I suspect you are and it's OK.  I've often
observed you and James in the hallway and in chorus, then with Eugene
trying to kill himself, I just put two and two together.  I'm gay too, as
is Mr. Murray, the art teacher.  Actually, we just got married in Vermont.
We don't broadcast it, and I hope our secret is safe with you. We talked,
and just wanted you guys to know if you ever need any help, please come
talk to us.  OK?"

I was shocked.  I couldn't believe my ears.  I thought that we had been so
careful.  I wondered how many others suspected.  I began to feel some
terror, it must have shown.

"Michael, don't worry.  I've been gay a long time, I know the signs.  Most
people don't; as much as they think they do, they don't.  Take a look at
little Marky McQuarters, he acts effeminate, but I assure you, he is not
gay.  Most think so, but he isn't.  I could really surprise you with
someone that is, but I won't.  As you get older you'll see what I'm saying
is true.  I'm not always right, so I always ask first," came my chorus
teacher's voice of experience.

"Well, then I guess first of all, no, it isn't hard to sing with the
emotion.  Second, I am gay, and the reason I can sing with so much feeling
is because I sing to James," I whispered.

"Michael, you're a beautiful person.  I will keep your secret," he said as
he hugged me again.

A few other choral members began filtering into the room.  I was over my
shock within a few moments, but I couldn't wait to tell James.  I began to
feel good about Mr. Stomley knowing about us.  After all, he was
experienced with what we were going through, not like Eugene's mother, who
wasn't.  We now had someone to talk to about our lives.

I could hear the band begin to warm up because the band room and chorus
room are next door to each other.  I wasn't worried about performing, I was
as prepared as I ever would be, and Mr. Stomley had paid me the biggest
compliment I had ever received from him.  I walked around the room chatting
with some of the other members of the chorus.  I was going to be the last
performer of the evening.  Even though the concert would start shortly, I
still had another hour and a half before I went on.  Alone, all alone, in
front of my friends and neighbors.

Some of the mothers had made platters of fresh fruit from the Shaws in
Portland; others had made cheese and cracker platters for us to snack on.
I picked at the grapes as I floated through the room.  Friggin' Sally
Pedneault wouldn't even bother me tonight, I thought.  I began to feel
totally relaxed as I munched on the green seedless grapes, and heard the
band begin to play.  I could pick out the various instruments as their
resonance drifted through the air.

I knew the band was going to do the first four songs as an orchestra.  Then
they had a small ten piece jazz section doing two numbers.  After which,
would be a dance routine put on by the drama club; I thought that was the
best part of the show.  The drama club had choreographed `Food Glorious
Food' another of the songs from their production of `Oliver'.  A brief
intermission would follow the drama guild.  The chorus then would begin the
second half of the show. We would open with `Greatest Love of All' followed
by `Amazing Grace'.  Then our Glee Club (a smaller group from the chorus)
would do `Bye, Bye, Bye' in harmony; they did it better than *NSYNC.  The
last thing would be me singing `Where Is Love'.  I was the finale.  I was
going to bring them all home, so to speak.

The time passed quickly, I was left alone in the room, while the chorus
filed into the auditorium to begin the second half of the show.  I was
still relaxed as I waited for my cue.  I thought about what Mr. Stomley had
told me, it had really made me feel better about James and myself.  I knew
we could trust him to help us with Eugene too.  I was especially excited
because Eugene had gotten out of the hospital and would be in the audience.
I realized, if it hadn't been for him hitting that flat it could have been
him doing the solo.  I guess we'll just never know I thought as I got my
cue.

"Michael, one minute, take your place."  The younger, freshman stage hand,
shouted into the chorus room from the hall.

I sauntered to the back stage door; I took a deep breath before I opened
it.  I heard the glee club finishing `Bye, Bye, Bye'.  I took my place
behind one of the center stage curtains; I waited for my introduction.

"Ladies and gentleman, it gives me great pleasure to announce our next
performer.  This young man has given me one hundred and ten percent, in his
practices and in his ability to work with the other members of our chorus.
I have worked with this gentleman for three years now; I have watched him
grow both in his musical talent and in personality.  It is truly an honor
to work with him.  I know you will enjoy his performance of `Where Is Love'
as much as I do.  So without further hesitation, I give you Michael Joseph
Martin."  Mr. Stomley walked away from the microphone and pointed his arm
to stage right.

I made my entrance, I was ready.  The spot shown down on me, the stage
lights dimmed.  I casually took my place center apron as the band ran
through the choral part.  I hit my mark just on time and began my solo.  It
was like I had done this so many times, even though this was only my first,
I felt total comfort as I sang.  I sang to James, I kept his vision in my
mind while I sang my heart out.  When I had finished I was drenched in
sweat.  I took my bow and exited to stage left.

The applause was thunderous; I felt the floor as it shook beneath my feet.
I briefly turned back to the audience and saw them on their feet.  I had
been given a standing ovation.  It brought tears to my eyes, I was so
honored.  I heard loud shouts, `Encore, encore!' the people whom I had
grown up around and near were yelling.  I couldn't help but think what they
would all do if they knew I was gay.  I know it sounds silly but it was
what I wondered at that precise moment.  I saw how shallow people could
really be.

Afterwards, my parents had invited the entire chorus to my home for a
party.  I was the center of attention the rest of the night.  My mother had
also invited the Shannucks from up on the hill, and even the `Hawkeye' and
Mrs. Massey had come to share in the festivities.  I tried to talk briefly
with everyone that came, but really just wanted to be alone with James.
Eugene had come as well.  His mom didn't stay, she had to watch his
siblings.  I was glad to see him making an attempt to get back into the
folds.  I asked him and James to spend the night, knowing it would be the
only way I could talk to them privately.  They both agreed, I think they
wanted to have some quiet time with me as much as I wanted to have with it
them.  I couldn't wait to tell them what I had been told by Stomley.

"Michael, I just wanted to tell you how wonderfully you did.  I was so
impressed, I never knew you were so talented," said Sally Pedneault in a
half-apologetic way.  Who invited her I wondered?

"Thanks, Sally, I really appreciate it."

"You brought tears to my eyes; I could feel the song.  Does that make
sense?"  She babbled on, much like a brook in the spring running over the
obstacles placed in its way.

"Really?"

"Yes, Michael."

I suddenly realized, or at least began to fear, that Miss Pedneault was
having feelings for me; feelings that I could not return.  I noticed she
was looking deep into my eyes in search of returned affection.  I tried to
be courteous, as I often am.  I showed no emotion.

"Thank you, Sally, that is kind of you.  Did you get something to eat?"  I
changed the subject as I pointed to the food on the dining room table and
made a quick get away.

I went into the living room and walked around greeting my guests and
spending a few moments with each of them.  I noticed the crowd started to
dwindle down as the time was getting near one o'clock in the morning.  I
wondered how long people would last, or stay.  I was exhausted, and just
wanted to crawl into my bed and my own inner sanctum.  Right below that
fucking tree, I had come to love so dearly.

I felt a pinch on my ass; I turned and saw my lover standing so close that
no one could see what he had done.  I remembered what Mr. Stomley had said;
he had `observed' us.  I wondered if anyone in the room was also observing
us.  I couldn't wait to talk with James, before someone else saw things
that we thought were private and all hell could break loose.  Hell, in
Maine, I think incest is better than being a fag, if you ask some
backwoodsman.

I smiled at him and nodded.  I told him with our special way that I needed
to talk.  He motioned his head towards the front door; we slowly made our
exit.  I stood in my front yard and looked into his eyes.

"James, we really have to be more careful.  Mr. Stomley told me tonight
that he knew you and I were gay.  Shit, he even told me about him and
Murray.  Did you know they're married?"

"What?"  He yelped.

"You heard me.  Did I stutter?"

"Oh my God."

"Yeah, I know.  It's all good though.  Don't worry, be happy," I chuckled
as I said it.

"Michael, I just don't know.  My father would kill me, he'd frigging disown
me.  I don't know what to do."  The tears started flowing down his cheeks.
I hadn't seen James cry in a long time.

"Babe, it's who we are, but we don't have to say anything yet.  At least I
don't think so."

"I hope he doesn't find out.  What would I do?  Where could I go?  My
mother, God my poor mother," he trailed off as he sobbed.

I stood motionless; I had no idea what to say.  Finally I just hugged him.
Right there in my front yard under the cover of darkness I hugged my lover.
I knew where love was.  It was with him, and it was with me.  James and I
were in love.

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Well there you have it, the latest in the journey of Michael and James.  I
hope you enjoyed it and are looking forward to more.  I want to thank you
all for visiting my website at http://Justinscorner.homestead.com and I
really appreciate all the e-mail and IM's I get at Justin69SK@aol.com keep
in touch and keep the faith.  Peace out.

I would like to express my heartfelt prayers for Ed, and ask all of my
readers to do the same, in his brief absence.  I would also like to thank
Sarah for editing this chapter.

As Always-
Just,
Justin
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