Date: Fri, 23 Mar 2007 14:52:37 -0400
From: ronyx <ronyx@woh.rr.com>
Subject: Taking Off the Mask   Chapter 4

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 Ron at
ronyx@woh.rr.com with your comments.  Ronyx is a Nifty prolific writer.



Taking Off the Mask          Chapter 4



Love takes off the masks that we fear we cannot live without and know we
cannot live within. James Baldwin



Dion Washington! She said her son was Dion. This couldn't be possible. I
had just finished serving detention with him, and now I had to spend my
Saturdays being treated rudely.

"What's the matter, Dear?" I guess she saw the astonished look on my
face.

"Dion is your son?" I managed to stammer out.

"Why yes," she said. "Do you know him?"

"Yes, Nurse Dorothy," I replied. "We just got through spending a week
of detention with Mr. Marshall."

"So you're the James he speaks so highly of?" She looked at me and
smiled.

So highly of? This is a joke, right? He hadn't said more than a half
dozen words to me the whole time we spent a week together: but he goes
home and tells his mother about me. I looked up and met her puzzled look.

"He doesn't like me," I confessed. "He won't even talk to me at
school."

"That's just the way Dion is," she responded. "He's been through a
lot. It's hard for him to open up to people."

"Been through what?" I asked. My mind was begging for answers. What was
there about him that would make him treat someone he likes as if they
were an enemy?

"Let's get you started," she took my hand and lead me down the hall. I
guess she was trying to avoid telling me any more about Dion. "I want
you to meet Mr. Wilbur."

She lead me down the hall and into room 212. There was an elderly black
man sitting in a recliner reading a book. He was thin, and appeared to be
about 70 years old. I immediately noticed that he was missing a leg. He
put the book down and smiled when we walked in.

"Mr. Wilbur," said Nurse Dorothy. "I've brought you a new friend. His
name is James."

He studied me for a minute before extending his hand for me to shake.
"Nice to meet you, James."

His hand was large and rough. Mine was dwarfed inside it. His face was
deeply wrinkled with the passing of time. His hair was gray, and he had a
white, shaggy beard. I immediately noticed his penetrating brown eyes. He
looked as if he was a man who had traveled the world, and he knew all its
deepest secrets.

"Hello," I said timidly. I felt uncomfortable under his gaze. He had
not stopped staring at me since I entered the room. It was as if he was
trying to read me like the book he had just put aside.

"You two get to know each other," said Nurse Dorothy as she headed out
of the room. "I'll stop by and check on you later."

I remained standing, not knowing what to do. She had left without giving
me any instructions. Finally, Mr. Wilbur spoke.

"Do you play chess?" he asked. I shook my head. "Checkers?"

"Yes, Sir," I replied. "My dad taught me how to play when I was a
boy."

"Well, good," he smiled. "You'll find it over there." He pointed to
a table and I saw several games sitting on top of it. Chess, checkers,
Yahtzee, Sorry, and Backgammon. It appeared Mr. Wilbur loved to play
games. I got the checkers set and handed it to him.

"Pull up a chair, Young Man," he said. "and be ready to get whipped by
an old man." I smiled and handed him the game. He set it up on a snack
table sitting beside his chair. I sat down and waited for him to finish.

We spent the next half hour in an intense game. He was a good player, but
I was determined to beat him. He seemed to like the challenge and was
happy that I wasn't just letting him win because he was old. In the end,
however, with his three kings to my one, he was able to beat me.

"I told you," he bragged. "No one's beat me yet."

"I'll get you the next game," I smiled. "You were just lucky this
time." I was beginning to like him very much.

"Set them up again, Smart Ass," he laughed. "Let's make a little
wager this time."

"I don't have any money on me," I told him.

"Then you can pay me the next time you come," he said. "How about a
quarter a game? But don't tell Dorothy. She'll get mad. When I took her
son for a dollar, I never heard the end of it."

"Dion plays checkers with you?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "He's been coming in and playing games with me on the
weekends for the past year. He's a nice young man- just like you." He
looked over at the clock. "He should be here any time now."

He had no sooner said this when he came walking into the room. He was
dressed in a tight white tee shirt and a pair of shorts. My eyes drifted
to his smooth, hairless legs. They were muscular and well-defined, like a
runner's legs.

"What are you doing here?" He asked rudely. My face began to burn with
anger. It seemed like anytime he saw me, he acted like it disappointed
him.

"Sit down, Dion," said Mr. Wilbur. "We'll play a game of Sorry."

"I've got to see my momma about something." He then scurried out of
the room.

"That was strange," Mr. Wilbur said as he watched him leave. "I've
never seen him act that way before. He's usually so friendly." He
looked over at me and studied the astonished look on my face.

"That's the way he acts around me," I informed him. "I don't think
he likes me very much."

"Nonsense," he said. "Perhaps he likes you too much." I had no idea
what he meant by that statement. If Dion liked me, then why was he always
so rude to me?

We played three more games, and Mr. Wilbur won all three. I owed him
seventy five cents. We were going to play another, but an aide brought
him his lunch. She asked me if I wanted something, but I told her no. I
decided to wait until I got home to eat.

While Mr. Wilbur ate, I left and walked around a little. Nurse Dorothy
saw me as she rushed down the hall. She grabbed my hand and said, "Come
with me. One of the patients has fallen and I need your help."

We rushed into a room and Lillian was lying on the floor. Dion was
kneeling down beside her, trying to comfort her.

"Grab her arms and gently lift her onto the bed," she instructed us. I
took her left arm while he took her right. "Ready?" I asked. He nodded
and we lifted Lillian up onto her bed. We lay her down and covered her
with a sheet. He stood beside me with his arm rubbing against mine as his
mother made sure that Lillian had not been injured in her fall.

"Dion, go get my blood pressure machine," she instructed. He left the
room quickly.

"You're doing a wonderful job, James," she said as she continued to
comfort Lillian. "I'll call your mother and tell her."

"I'd rather you didn't," I responded. I didn't want my mother to
know that I was doing well. When I went home I wanted to play the
pathetic role. I didn't want her to be under the impression that the
experience wasn't as horrible as I had first thought.

Dion ran back in and handed his mother the blood pressure monitor. He
stepped back and once again stood beside me, letting his arm touch mine.
I looked over at him, but he pretended to ignore me.

"I think everything is alright, now," she reassured us. "James, why
don't you go back to Mr. Wilbur, and Dion can help me."

Mr. Wilbur's eyes lit up when I returned. "You ain't lost enough money
yet?" he laughed.

"Bring it on, Old Man," I responded. He continued to laugh. "You young
ones are all alike," he said. "Think you know it all, but you can't
beat experience."

We played two more games, and I lost another fifty cents. I was going to
have to save some of my lunch money to pay him the dollar twenty five I
owed. I was putting the game away when he astonished me.

"Are you out to your parents?" he asked matter-of-factly.

"Excuse me?" I asked incredulously. Why was he asking me something as
personal as that. How could he possibly assume that I was gay? I had said
nothing to him.

"Do your parents know you're gay?" he questioned again. I stood and
looked in amazement at him.

"Why do you think I'm gay?" I stammered. I was so nervous I'm sure
guilt was written all over my face.

"Son, relax," he said reassuringly. "I'm seventy two years old and
for sixty of those years I've been gay. I'm not judging you. I'm just
curious if you've told your parents yet."

"No, sir," I replied. "But how did you know?"

"Gaydar," he laughed. "I felt it the minute you walked into the
room."

"Am I that obvious?" I asked worriedly.

"Not at all." He said. "But when Dion walked in the room, I noticed
how you reacted to him."

"I didn't react anyway to him," I protested. "I told you, he hates
me."

"If you say so," he said smugly. "How about a game of Sorry?" I
looked at the clock and it was almost 1:30. I looked back at the anxious
face of Mr. Wilbur. "Sure," I said. "I have time."

Mr. Wilbur told me all about his life. He said he came out when he was
fourteen to his family. Back then parents didn't always accept gay sons,
so he lived until he was eighteen with his grandmother. After graduating
from high school, he said he left and never returned. He had two younger
sisters, but he never tried to contact them. He had no idea if they were
even still alive.

Like most young people, he said he headed out to make his fortune. He
never accomplished that, but he did become an experienced chef. He worked
for some of the finest restaurants in the country. He finally had to stop
when his diabetes became worse.

"Did you have a boyfriend?" I asked. His life story had interested me
and I wanted to know more.

"Oh, yes," he said dreamily. "I met this fine white man right after I
started working in my first restaurant. I was learning to cook and he was
a waiter. His name was Paul. Fine man. Tall, handsome and smart. He
worked his way through college, and then he became an architect. We moved
in together and had a wonderful life.

"Where is he now?" I asked. His dreamy look turned to a sad expression.
I already knew what he was going to say.

"September 22, 1979," he said sadly. "That's when Paul died. He was
working at a construction site and a beam fell and killed him." We sat
quietly looking at the pieces of the board. I knew he was lost in
thought, and I didn't know what to say.

"But I got to spend twenty-six of the best years with him," he said,
breaking the silence. "I wouldn't trade a minute." I looked into his
eyes and saw tears forming. "I miss him so much. I've never been with
another man since."

"I'm sorry," I muttered emotionally. I couldn't imagine what it would
be like to love someone so much and then lose them. Sometimes life
didn't seem fair.

"It's your move," he pointed down to the board. "This old man is
going to show a greenhorn how to play."

"Greenhorn, huh?" I laughed nervously. "Better get your quarter
ready."

It was almost 3:00 when I finally left. Mr. Wilbur thanked me for being
so kind and spending all my time with him. I assured him that I had
enjoyed myself and I'd return again the following Saturday. He was the
first gay person I had ever met. The fact that he also knew I was gay
made me more comfortable around him. He had been where I was going, so I
knew I could count on his wisdom to help me along the way.

I looked for Nurse Dorothy and Dion, but then I remembered her saying
that she worked until two. I didn't want to admit it, but I had enjoyed
myself. Instead of cleaning out bed pans like I had feared, I spent the
day playing games with a lonely man who would have otherwise spent the
day looking idly at a television set or reading a book.

"How was it?" My mother hollered out from her office when I walked
through the door.

"O.K." I yelled back as I headed to the kitchen. I really didn't care
to keep her informed about my experience at the nursing home for the next
three months. I was doing what she ordered me to do, so it really didn't
matter if I liked it or not.

"Mrs. Carson said you did a good job." She walked into the kitchen
while I was making a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I took my sandwich
and glass of milk and headed for the door.

"You don't want to tell me about it?" she asked.

"What's to say?" I turned and faced her. "I'm doing what you told me
to do." I said sharply. A surprised look came over her face. This was
the first time in sixteen years I had ever spoken rudely to her.

My cell phone was ringing when I got to my bedroom. It was Jackie.

"Yes I'm back," I stated, "and no I didn't have to clean out bed
pans." I heard her giggling on the other side.

"Guess I'll have to throw away all these neat piss jokes I found
online," she laughed.

I started to say something, but suddenly my bedroom door opened and my
mother walked over and tore the phone from my hand.

"James can't talk right now," she said angrily and then turned the
phone off. "Just what makes you think you can talk to me like you just
did? I asked you a simple question and you get smart."

"I didn't get smart," I insisted. "I just told you there was nothing
to tell you."

"That's not what Mrs. Carson said," she replied. "She said they've
never had anyone get along so well with the residents. She had nothing
but good things to say about you."

"Is that what you're going to do now," I shouted a little louder than
I probably should have. "Are you going to be checking on me all the time
like I`m a little child? I'm doing what you told me to do. What more do
you want?"

"I want you to learn respect, Young Man," she shouted back.

"Then you need to learn respect, too." Oops. I'd crossed the line with
that remark. Her face turned red and her bottom lip started to quiver.

"Fine." She handed me the phone back and stormed out of the room. I sat
down on my bed and nibbled at the sandwich. I was no longer hungry. I
knew I'd hurt her feelings once again. It seemed like I was doing a lot
of that the past few days. We had never had trouble communicating before,
but now it seemed like we couldn't talk to each other without getting
upset.

I stayed in my room the rest of the afternoon, trying to catch up on my
homework assignments. I was sitting at my computer when my cell phone
rang. I looked at the caller ID; it was Jackie.

"What was that all about?" Your mom sounded pissed."

"Yeah, I guess she was. We kinda got into it again."

"Man, James. What's going on with you guys? You've always had the
coolest mom."

"She's just being stubborn. I make one mistake at school and she's
gotten all weird. I don't know what her problem is. Now she's checking
on me all the time."

"Have you tried talking to her?"

"What good would that do? She acts like she can't stand to be around
me."

"I doubt that. She's always been crazy about you."

"She's not acting like it right now."

"You want me to talk to her?"

"Yeah. Tell her what a wonderful son she has."

"I didn't know you had a brother."

"Shut up, Jackie."

"I got to go. See you at school on Monday."

"Alright. See ya."

I lay down on my bed and tried to figure out just what was happening.
I'd always been the perfect son. I slip up once and she gets all upset,
and then makes me spend my Saturdays at St. Andrew's. I had already
served a week of detention. Wasn't that punishment enough?

I feel asleep for a while. I started dreaming about a cute guy I'd seen
last weekend at the mall. I dreamt that he invited me home with him, and
we started making out on his couch. We were doing a lot of heavy petting,
and he had put his hands inside my pants while shoving his tongue down my
throat. I pulled away to tell him to go slow, and I was looking into the
chocolate eyes of Dion once again.

I awoke and sat up in bed. My cock was throbbing and I felt I was going
to cum in my pants. I quickly pulled them down and started jerking off,
thinking about the boy at the mall and our hot make out session. Just as
I began to cum, Dion's face appeared once again. I shot all over my
stomach visualizing his handsome face.

As I cleaned myself up, I kept trying to figure out what was going on in
my life. I was fighting with my mother, who had always been the center of
my life. I could look into her eyes and know she was disappointed in me.

Then a boy who I didn't even like, kept creeping into my sexual
fantasies. Neither of us liked each other, but yet I seemed to be drawn
to him. This was the second time I had a powerful orgasm picturing his
face. My mind was whirling with confusion. I felt like I was on a roller
coaster that wouldn't stop.

I went back to my computer and started working again on my lit paper. I
had been writing for about a half hour when there was a tapping at my
door. My mother peered into the room.

"Are you busy?"

"No, not really. Working on a stupid paper for lit."

"Can we talk?"

"Sure." She walked in, sat on the bed and asked me to sit beside her.

"I know I've been rough on you and I shouldn't have." I watched as
tears formed in her eyes. She was looking away, but then turned and
looked into my eyes.

"I've been taking it out on you because of your father." I gave her a
quizzical look. I had no idea what he had to do with this.

"When we would argue, he was always telling me to shut up." Tears began
to flow down here face. I was blinking my eyes to keep the tears from
appearing in mine. "It was so demeaning. He wouldn't even listen to
what I wanted to say to him. He'd just tell me to shut up and then he'd
walk out." She buried her head in her hands and started crying.

I didn't know what to do. This was the first time she had ever talked
about my father since his leaving. I knew they had been fighting for
about a year before he left, because I could hear them arguing behind
their bedroom door. Usually it would end with the slamming of the front
door, as he walked out for a few days.

But since he left, she'd always been strong and acted like it didn't
bother her. This was the first time I saw just how vulnerable she was. I
reached out and put my arm around her shoulder and pulled her into me.

After a few minutes she gained her composure and sat back up. I put my
hand around her waist and continued to hold her. She wiped away the tears
from her streaked face.

"I never wanted you to disrespect a woman like your father did me." She
said. "I'm sorry I took my hatred for him and transferred it to you.
You're a wonderful son, and I love you so much. I was wrong for being so
hard on you. Please forgive me." Now it was my turn for tears to appear.
She wrapped her arms around me as we held each other tightly for a
minute.

"It's alright, Mom." I sat up and wiped my eyes with my sleeve. She
looked at me and smiled.

"You're such a handsome young man." She ran her hand across my hair
and kissed me gently on the cheek. "I'm so proud you're my son.
There's nothing you could do that would ever change that."

"I love you, Mom." I responded.

"You don't have to go back to St. Andrew's next Saturday," she
informed me.

"I think I'd like to go back," I said. She gave me a puzzled look. I
spent the next few minutes telling her about Mr. Wilbur and the fun I'd
had playing games with him. I felt he'd be disappointed if I didn't
show back up next Saturday. She started laughing when I told her I owed
him $1.25.

"That old rascal," she laughed. "Taking advantage of a sixteen year
old boy."

"He didn't," I grinned. "I let him win a few of those games." She
reached out and ruffled my hair.

"That's my boy." She reached out and gave me a final hug before
getting up and walking to the door. "Get dressed. We're going out for
dinner. Pizza?"

"Yeah," I said excitedly. "Gino's Pizzeria?"

"It's a date, Mister. Now get dressed."

As I changed my clothes, her words, `there's nothing you could do that
would ever change that' began to haunt me. I wondered if she would still
feel the same for me if she ever found out that I was gay?

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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