Date: Wed, 17 Aug 2016 23:12:51 +0000
From: Joel <joelyoung120@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Messenger - Chapter 13

			       The Messenger
			       By Joel Young

			Chapter 13 – Strike One:
			    A Punch in the Gut

I woke up on Monday morning still thinking about the cast party.  My
parents had done an awesome job planning out all the details of the
celebration.  The pictures from the play were a big hit; the decorations
were beautiful; the DJ was good; the food was delicious, and the DCOPA
volunteers all seemed to like and appreciate their gifts.  I thought
everyone had a great time at the party.

For me, of course, the best part of the evening was slipping away with Ben
and having amazing sex.  I couldn't wait for Friday when Ben and I were
going away together for an entire weekend!

I wanted to linger in bed reliving the fun from last night.  But, I had to
get up.  It was going to be another busy week at school.  I had a chemistry
test in just a few hours.  At the end of the day, there was Strike.  And on
Tuesday, I had a major paper due in British Literature.  Classes for the
rest of the week promised to be intense as well.  Having spent so much time
on the show, I was in catch-up mode.

Fortunately, the Chemistry test was much easier than I thought it would be.
Unfortunately, I had to fight with myself to pay attention in all of my
other classes. I was glad when 6th hour finished, and I could head to the
auditorium for Strike.

When I got there, I saw two men from the antique store picking up the
sideboard.  I found Jerry, and I was surprised to learn that Strike was
almost done.  Ben had some members of the crew released from classes early.
All I was asked to do was straighten up the box office and take a copy of
our poster and program to the Library.

The Librarian had seen the show on Saturday night.  When I dropped off the
materials, she seemed to want to talk about the show.  Since she had helped
me with my lines, I thought it only right that I sit down and visit with
her.  That took about 20 minutes.

By the time I got back to the auditorium, Strike was over, and all of the
cast and crew had left.  Ben was sitting by himself on the edge of the
stage.  He had a small, wrapped package in his hands.

As I headed toward Ben, I felt myself becoming emotional.  The show was
officially over.  There would be no more rehearsals where I would be Ben's
Assistant – no more performances for me to `save' Ben's show.  Even
though Ben and I were going to Ann Arbor together at the end of the week,
today was a milestone – one step closer to the end.

"I bought you a present," Ben said.  "It isn't anything like the great
sweater you got for me.  But, I hope you like it.  Go ahead - open it."

I took the package and looked at Ben.  I started to tear up.  I was really
touched that Ben had waited for me to get back from the Library just so he
could give me a gift.

I opened the package.  It was a bottle of Aramis.  "It's perfect, Ben," I
said.  "Thank you so much!  I love it."  I had to fight back my tears.

Ben just sat there as I tried to get a grip.  I wiped my eyes with the back
of my hand.  "I don't know why I'm being such a blubbering idiot," I said.
"It's not like we're saying goodbye today.  We still have this weekend."

As soon as I mentioned the weekend, Ben looked away from me and hung his
head down.  I knew something was wrong.  I said nothing, hoping that Ben
would reassure me that our plans were still on.

"Joel," Ben said.  "I'm sorry.  But, I can't go."

I had to ask.  "Why not?"

"I really want to go," Ben said.  "I want to spend more time with you."  He
looked around to make sure that no one else was in the auditorium.  "I want
us to make love together again.  But, I'm really behind with my school
work.  I have papers due, and I have to prepare for final exams.  I can't
risk it.  I have to make sure that I graduate on time.  Otherwise, I'll
lose my internship."

I had really been looking forward to going to Ann Arbor with Ben.  And when
he told me our plans had to be canceled, I felt as if I had been punched in
the gut.  I fought desperately not to break down completely.  Somehow, I
managed to gain control of my emotions and behave rationally.

"I understand," I told Ben.  "You've done so much for Joliet – so much
for me.  If you're behind in your school work, you have to take care of
yourself now.  You have to graduate and take that internship.  If you
don't, I may never get to watch you on TV receiving your Tony - or your
Academy Award."  I paused for a few moments before adding, "And, we did
have last night."

"Last night was amazing, Joel," Ben said.

There was a long, awkward silence.  I told myself to take charge and say
goodbye to Ben with my dignity still intact.

"Okay, here's what we're going to do," I said.  "I'm going to give you a
hug.  No kissing.  Then, we'll say goodbye, and I'm going to leave.  Please
let me walk away.  I don't want to watch you walk away from me.  I did that
with David, and I don't want another memory like that etched in my brain."

Ben slid off the stage, and I put my arms around him.  We hugged tightly
for just a moment.  Then, Ben said, "Goodbye, Joel."

"Bye, Ben," I said.  I gave him one last smile, picked up my Aramis, and I
left the auditorium.  "It's over," I thought to myself.

I went to my locker for my coat and the books I needed for my homework, and
I called for a ride home.  While I was waiting for my Mom, I had nothing to
do except feel sad and deeply disappointed.  But, I didn't allow myself to
cry.  I was determined not to give Mom any reason to suspect that something
was bothering me.

After dinner that night, my parents left for a ballroom dance rehearsal.
They were preparing for a competition in April.  I sat at the large desk in
the den and worked on finishing my English paper that was due the next day.
Although I really liked British Literature, the assigned topic for this
essay was annoying: Compare and Contrast William Shakespeare's Hamlet to
Geoffrey Chaucer's `Wife of Bath.'  I mean really, does anybody actually
care?  I considered the assignment to be nothing more than mental
gymnastics assigned only to prove you had read the material and could write
a coherent sentence.

The next morning, I turned in my paper. After 3rd hour, I went to the
cafeteria.  I got my lunch and saw Sara eating a sandwich and studying at a
table by herself.  She looked up as I came over.  "I'm surprised to see you
here, Joel," she said.  "I thought you ate enough at the cast party to last
for the rest of the week."

"Very funny, Hinman," I said.  "May I sit down, or should I go start a
table just for the pigs like me?"

I sat down, and Sara closed her book.  "I had a really good time at the
party," she said.  "Your parents did a great job.  I bet it cost them a
fortune."

"Yea," I replied.  "They won't be able to send me to Princeton anymore, but
community college may still be a possibility."

"Better win some scholarships," Sara said.  "Of course, if you don't, I
hear Little Caesar's is always looking for delivery drivers."

"Nah," I said.  "I'll pass on that job.  You don't make enough dough
working in a pizza joint.  But, I'm really not too concerned if I can't
afford college – the whole thing is over-rated.  I mean, you work hard
for four years, run up a ton of debt, and then you have a terrible time
finding a job."

"I don't think it's quite that bad," Sara said.

 I don't know," I said.  "I was watching Jeopardy on TV the other night,
and they had a category called `American Jobs.'  One of the answers was,
`Would you like fries with that?'  Do you know what the question was?"

I paused momentarily.  "What do most college graduates say on their first
day of work?"

Sara rolled her eyes.  "Hey," she said.  "A job is a job.  But, if you're
going to turn up your nose at food service, you could always look for work
in the porn industry."

"No thanks," I said.  "I don't want to steal your backup plan."

Thankfully, Sara changed the subject.  "Are you and Ben still going to Ann
Arbor this weekend?"  Her tone of voice let me know she didn't approve of
my plans.

`"No," I replied.  "Ben's got too much school work to catch up on this
weekend.  We said goodbye after Strike, and I'll probably never see him
again.  I'm really disappointed that he had to cancel our plans.  And, I
was looking forward to seeing the other production of The Messenger."

"Hey, do you want to go see it with me?" I asked Sara.  "We could sit in
the audience and trash-talk the college students if they're not as good as
we were!"

"As fun as you make that sound," Sara said.  "I can't.  I'm going to my
cousin's piano recital in Grand Rapids.  She paused for a moment before
asking, "Was it hard for you to say goodbye to Ben?"

I didn't want to talk about my feelings for Ben.  "Of course not!" I lied.
"I'm sort of glad he's gone.  He was really getting on my nerves with his
compulsive attention to detail."

"You did it again, Joel," Sara said.

"What?" I asked.  "What'd I do?"

"You followed the same pattern you always use when you lie," Sara said.
"You start with an emphatic denial, and then you follow it up with a
plausible, but unlikely, explanation."

"Interesting," I said.  "I'll see if I can change things up the next time I
have to lie."

"Joel," Sara said.  "Prisoners of war may have to lie.  Most teenagers I
know lie because they choose to do so – usually to cover up things they
shouldn't be doing."

"So, you're saying I wouldn't feel the need to lie if I stopped doing
things that I shouldn't?"

Sara pursed her lips and nodded her head.  Then she asked, "Did you really
go home to get the gifts on Sunday night?  Or did you disappear before
dinner for some other reason?"

"Why would you ask that?" I said.

"There was talk about you and Ben being gone at the same time, and then
getting back within minutes of each other," Sara said.  "And, Melissa
thought you smelled of alcohol."

I decided to be honest without full disclosure.  "If I tell you, do you
promise not to tell anyone?"

"Well, Sara said.  "As long as it doesn't involve murder, rape, kidnapping
or grand theft, I guess I can keep my mouth shut."

"I didn't go home.  I was with Ben," I said.  "We talked, and he shared
some alcohol with me.  But, I didn't get drunk."

"Is that all that happened?" Sara asked.  "You and Ben didn't – `make
out' again?"

I reacted immediately without thinking.  "Of course not!" I lied.  "Don't
be ridiculous!  Ben just wanted to talk about the show.  You know - what he
liked, what he wished he'd done differently."

"I see," Sara said.  "Emphatic denial, followed by a plausible, but
unlikely, explanation.  You want to try that again?"

Sara had outsmarted me, and I knew I had been caught red-handed.  I felt my
face getting hot, and I knew I was blushing.

"Oh, my God!" Sara said.  "You did more than just `make out,' didn't you?
You went all the way!  With Ben - at the cast party!  And, your parents
were right there!"

Sheepishly, I said, "You make it sound like a bad thing."

We started eating again.  A few minutes later, Sara said, "Joel, I know
this is none of my business, but please tell me that one of you brought
protection."

"Don't worry," I grinned.  "I had it covered."

"Ok then," Sara said.  "Let's change the subject.  Since you're not going
to Ann Arbor, what are you doing this weekend?  You want to come to a piano
recital?  My parents would love to have you go with us.

"Sorry," I said.  "But, I'll pass.  I really want to go see the other
production of The Messenger, but I don't want to go by myself."

"Ask Kevin," Sara suggested.

"Kevin?  What makes you think Kevin would want to go with me?" I asked.

"I think he likes you," Sara said.

I wasn't sure what Sara meant.  "I know this is going to sound totally
middle school, but are saying he `likes' me - or he `like likes' me?"

"You are an idiot!" Sara said.  "All I'm saying is that the guy wants to be
your friend.  Maybe he has a crush on you.  Maybe he doesn't.  I don't
know.  But, don't tell me you haven't noticed that he's always hanging
around you."

I thought about what Sara said.  Kevin and I did talk to each other a lot
during rehearsals.  And, we sort of bonded when we both got pissed at Ben
about that whole gay flirting scene business.  There was that time when
Kevin measured me for my costume, and he touched my privates - seemingly by
accident.  He had even commented that I needed extra room in the crotch.
And, he had said that he couldn't flirt with me – in front of other
people.

"Did he say something that would make you think that he likes me?" I asked.

"Not exactly," Sara said.  "But, why not ask him to go with you this
weekend.  It couldn't hurt."

"Are you trying to play matchmaker?" I asked.

"No," Sara said.  "I'm not.  But, if Kevin does have a crush on you, he'd
be better for you than Ben.  That's for sure."

I really wasn't convinced that I should ask Kevin to go to Ann Arbor with
me over the weekend.  But, I decided to think about it.



Readers: Your comments will be appreciated.  Send them to
joelyoung120@hotmail.com.