Date: Wed, 16 Apr 2014 03:09:38 -0400 (EDT)
From: DJAkeeba@aol.com
Subject: Tragedy in the Blood, Chapters 18 & 19

This story is about male/male relationships and contains graphic
descriptions of sex.  You should not read this story if it is in any way
illegal due to your age or residence.

This is a work of pure fiction. This story is the sole property of its
author and may not be copied in whole or in part or posted on any website
without the permission of the author.

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

TRAGEDY IN THE BLOOD
by Steven H. Davis

Chapter 18

The conversation with Tynah didn't go as badly as I had expected.  She was
certainly not thrilled with my actions -- she had raised a son, Jack,
seventeen years my senior -- who had been in trouble with the law during
his adolescence as well.  I didn't know much about it then, but I later
learned that he had stolen a car and gone to jail, where he had attempted
to hang himself with his own belt.

Jack was in the military now, like his sister -- my ex-mother -- and I
hadn't seen him since I was about nine years old, but I knew that Rex
didn't like him, and I also knew that Tynah was seeing the past flash
before her eyes as she heard about what had happened at Polk High that
morning.  I could see the color rising in her cheeks as Rex and I delivered
the news, and I could tell that she was just about to explode when Rex
spoke up.

"Rick," he said, "why don't you run your bike to the store and get us some
milk?  I need to talk to your mother for a while."

I wordlessly took my cue and bolted to the garage, then zoomed away down
the street to the H.E.B. supermarket.  By the time I returned, Tynah was a
lot calmer, although dinner was a bit tense (a bit!) and she hadn't spoken
a word to me.  It wasn't until Rex had disappeared into the garage and I
was clearing the table to do dishes that I heard her voice from the
La-Z-Boy.

"I don't like what you did," she began.

I could tell, as tears began to well in my eyes, that this was something of
an understatement.  I couldn't go in the living room and face her, so I
stood by the kitchen sink, watching Foxy romp around the backyard.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly.

"But Rex explained to me why you did it, and I think you were very brave to
help your friend against that bully.  I'll tell you this, though.  You had
better thank your lucky stars that Sly Maxwell was there to keep the police
from being brought in.  I've raised one felon, and I don't intend to raise
another.  Heretofore, you go tell a teacher or a vice-principal what's
happening, and I don't want to ever hear about you getting in another
fight."

"Yes, ma'am," I choked out between sobs.

"You will serve out your suspension here doing yardwork and cleaning the
house.  And you will keep up with your homework.  Are we understood?"

"Yes," I murmured.

"Yes, what?" she asked in her mock-happy singsong voice.

"Yes, ma'am." I replied.

"Good," she said, apparently satisfied.  "Now you can finish the dishes and
then you can be excused."

"I love you, Tynah," I said.

"I love you too, honey," she replied reassuringly.

I felt like shit.

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

That night, I fielded phone calls from the following people: Linda, Kathy,
Jeff, Carter, Mr. McRory, David Wurtzel, Kirsten, and Sly Maxwell.  I hung
up on Kirsten when she informed me of how much Kevin's friends were waiting
to get me alone off school grounds.

Linda showed concern and assured me that we could do our Duet at the next
IQT, Kathy showed some remorse and seemed disturbingly interested in me
again, Jeff was tickled pink, Carter was admiring, Mr. McRory was pissed
off about the Chamberlain meet, Sly huskily thanked me for helping his son
and told me he always had my back, and David was... well, I didn't really
know David except in passing, but appreciated his support.

After all the phone calls were done, Rex and Foxy bedded down on the living
room floor as usual, and Tynah donned her ever-present caftan and went off
to bed.  I sat alone on the darkened patio for a long time, running my
fingers along the rough, stained wood of the picnic table and trying to
gather up the courage to open the envelope which sat on its well-aged
surface in front of me.

Finally, I opened it, and this is what it said:

"Don't love me."

The three words hit me like a roundhouse punch to the soul.

"Don't love me."

That was it.  No "Dear Rick," no explanation, no recrimination, just "Don't
love me."  Not even a signature.

I sat there in the dark, and I didn't cry.  I was just too stunned.  I kept
looking at the letter, if you could call it a letter, and reading those
three words over and over again, shocked by the blunt finality of them.

"Don't love me."

Finally, the analytical part of my mind kicked in.  Like everything else
that Taine said, these three words by themselves were cryptic.  Open to
interpretation.  What did that mean?  Did it mean that he never wanted to
speak to me again?  Did it mean "don't love me because I don't love you and
you'll get hurt"?  Did it mean "I'll be your friend, but don't love me"?
Did it mean "don't love me because I don't think I'm worth it"?  Or,
knowing Taine, did it just mean "don't love me" because of his byzantine
way of avoiding emotion of any kind?

All of these interpretations were slightly different, and varied in their
degrees of meaning, impact and finality.  I wasn't sure if my analysis of
each, which would consume the greater part of the next 36 hours, was a
valid intellectual pursuit or just my half-assed, self-justifying way of
dealing with what -- to anyone more honest with themselves -- was a
brutally simple and obvious rejection.

I didn't know, but I tossed and turned in bed all night trying to figure it
out.

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

I trimmed the hedges on Tuesday, swept the patio and cleaned the bathrooms.
This suspension was going to involve a lot of work, and I still felt really
bad about the tournament and causing Linda to have to sign up for Poetry
Reading -- which didn't qualify for the State tournament as it wasn't an
officially sanctioned event -- but I had reconciled myself to the fact that
I had done it for my angel, and his physical safety was worth it.

I hoped that he would be safe at school this week, and I knew that Sly had
made Coach Gorman promise that there would be no retaliation for what I'd
done to his son, but I also knew how loyal and vengeful Kevin's teammates
could be, and I was scared for Taine.  Kirsten's phone call last night
hadn't set my mind at ease one bit, either.

I was worried.

After my first day of chores had been completed and dinner had been eaten,
I was laying in bed reading a horror-movie magazine called "Fangoria" with
Foxy curled up next to me.  Tynah and Rex had gone over to visit their old
friends the Velazquez family across town, and I didn't expect them back
until very late in the evening.

What I also didn't expect was the ringing doorbell at around 8 pm.

My eyes narrowed and I set down the magazine, adrenaline beginning to pump
through my system.  What if Kevin's friends -- whom Kirsten had told me
were out for my blood -- had decided to pay me an evening visit?  They
could probably tell I was alone in the house, as they would know that a) I
was grounded, and b) all the lights were off in the front rooms at 8:00.

Foxy's head raised in alarm and he began barking, pouncing from the bed and
rushing down the hall to the front door.  I followed him, all of my
defensive instincts raised.  I opened the front closet in the parlor,
extracting a heavy pipe-wrench from Rex's toolbox on the closet floor.

Having spent much of my life in apartments, I kept forgetting that we
didn't have a peephole in the front door, and I cursed whoever had decided
that houses didn't need them.  Okay, I thought, we'll have to do this the
hard way.  I raised the wrench over my head with my right hand, so that it
was behind the door when I opened it with my left.

There before me, in his usual cap, army jacket, cargo pants and Jegs, stood
Taine Maxwell.

I guess the upraised wrench wasn't hidden behind the door as well as I
thought, because the brim lifted and the eyes widened momentarily before he
figured it out.

"Expecting company?" he said with a smirk.

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

When the wrench had been put away and I had recovered my senses enough to
get Taine in the house and seated on the living room couch, I noticed that
he had brought a thin cardboard folder with him.  Inside were my
assignments for all my classes for the week.

He had gone to all my teachers that day and written each schedule carefully
in that precise cursive scrawl.  I was deeply touched by his efforts, but I
was also -- in light of the three-word note which he had written me the day
before -- very confused.

I got Taine a soda from the fridge and led him back to my room, where Foxy
soon joined us on the bed, wagging his tail happily.  As Taine sipped his
soda and absently stroked my appreciative dog with his other hand, I
briefly glanced at the list of assignments, thanking him profusely.  After
a moment, I set the folder aside and studied him.

He looked as nervous as I felt.  As he removed his cap and set it next to
him on the bed, neither of us speaking, I didn't know quite what to say.
Obviously, he didn't either, so we just sat there for a time, looking at
each other wordlessly.

As soon as the cap came off, however, my nervousness was melted by the
sight of his beautiful, smooth and angelic face.  I felt my eyes mist up
slightly just at the pure, radiant sight of him.  My Babes.  He had come
back to me.  And he had gathered my assignments for me all day, which must
have meant that he was thinking about me all day.  I had certainly been
thinking about him.

He regarded me for a few moments longer, and I fell in love with him all
over again.  His face and eyes were so trusting, so open, so utterly
without guile or deception.  He really was too pure for this world.  He was
also so fragile, though.  So nervous.  I felt as if I spoke a word, he
would break and flee once more.  Fortunately, he spoke first.

"That was really cool," he said.  "What you did for me yesterday.  Thanks."

I smiled.  "Don't mention it.  I couldn't let him hurt you."

Taine looked down at his perfect hands, pulling nervously at his fingers.
He kicked off his shoes and drew himself up to sit cross-legged on the bed
opposite me, still looking downward.

"Well, you didn't have to do that," he said softly, a slight smile on the
perfect cupid's bow of his lips.  "I'm glad you didn't get arrested."

"Me too," I chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.  "I'm an actor, not a
convict."

"You're gonna miss the tournament, huh?"  He sounded hurt, as if it had
been his fault.

"Yeah, I don't care," I said easily, figuring a little white lie was okay
in the bigger picture.  "There's seven more.  That's plenty of emoting
across the state.  Besides, you're worth it."

I paused, looking at him carefully, before taking a gamble.  "Thanks for
answering my note."

Taine, his eyes downcast, seemed to flinch slightly, and I wondered if I
had gone too far too soon.  He spooked easily, like a bunny in the woods,
and I didn't want to chase him off again.

He didn't respond for a long time, and I became lost in the sight of his
soft, silky brown hair, its blond highlights catching the warm glow from
the lamp on my nightstand.  How I wanted to run my fingers through that
hair, hold him in my arms and never let him go.  To never let anything hurt
this sweet, heartbreakingly good, decent and fragile boy ever again.

He adjusted himself on the bed, and I noticed the delicate curve of his
slender, pale neck as he hunched forward slightly, the army jacket hanging
loosely around his frail shoulders.  He pulled it around himself more
tightly, and I knew that it wasn't because he was cold.  He needed
protective armor around him for what he was going to say next.

At long last, Taine cleared his throat, glanced up at me for a split
second, and cast his eyes downward again, speaking to his adorably cute,
white, tubesock-clad bunny feet rather than to me.

"About that note," he said softly.  "I need you to understand something.  I
don't want you to..."

He stopped, seemingly at a loss for words.  I had come to realize that this
was a common condition for Taine, as the speed of his thoughts, the
complexity of his feelings, often outmatched his ability to articulate them
in a way which satisfied their true depth and layering within his amazing
mind.  He exhaled with what seemed to be immense frustration at the
inadequacies of the English language to simply communicate basic emotional
truths.

I hung on his every breath, his every slight motion as he began again.

"I need to explain it to you," he said, looking at me for confirmation.

I nodded silently, and leaned forward to listen, my heart pounding as never
before.

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

Chapter 19

Taine Maxwell came to my house on Tuesday night, September 22nd, 1981 at
just around 8:00 pm.

It was the night of my first day of suspension from Polk High for losing my
mind and beating Kevin Gorman bloody with Taine's English book when I saw
the loutish defensive lineman bullying my angel.

I was home alone and Tynah and Rex were at the Velazquez home, catching up
with Rex's old army buddy Jorge and his warm and bawdy wife Alejandra.  Rex
and Jorge had known each other for thirty-six years, since they had both
lied about their ages to sneak into service at the tail-end of World War
II.

They could be away all night, I knew, and Tynah had even taken a change of
work clothes with her for the morning in case anyone got too tipsy to drive
home after their get-together.

Meanwhile, I sat crosslegged at the head of my bed, with Taine sitting
crosslegged at the foot, and Foxy gnawing at some imaginary attacker on his
own rear paws between us.  Taine was trying to explain his note to me.  The
note which contained only the words "Don't love me," written in response to
the overheated declaration of my love and devotion which I had slipped
under his door on Sunday night, before everything had gone so horribly
wrong.

"I need to explain it to you," he had said, looking to me for confirmation.

I had nodded silently, and leaned forward to listen, my heart pounding as
never before...

Taine spoke then, for longer than I had ever heard him speak, and I hung on
every halting, carefully-chosen and deeply-felt word.  He told a
heartbreaking story, the story of a life on the fringes, being bullied and
persecuted everywhere he went.  Aside from his rugby-playing friend, who
was often unavailable, there was no one around to protect him from the
sadistic teasing, the humiliating pranks, and the brutal physical attacks.

Sly had not been a very big part of Taine's early life, I was surprised to
learn, as he was always traveling around the world to compete in races and
attend various Formula 1 publicity events.  Although he was certainly doing
his best to make up for his frequent absences now, much of Taine's
childhood had been spent alone in his room, with only his mother downstairs
for company.

True, she was the best mother he could possibly want, fussing and doting
over his injuries and tears, cooking him wonderful meals and bending over
backwards to do the work of two parents and beyond.  There was nothing she
wouldn't do for her sweet, special, beautiful Taine.  I knew the feeling
well.

But there had been so many tragedies.  Taine's family had been plagued by
death... accidents and diseases which claimed all four of his grandparents,
his aunt, his young sister while she was still in the cradle, and finally
his mother, who had left him seemingly all alone in the world a few short
months ago.

Taine told me of his older brother, who had left for college and never
returned, the mounting deaths and funereal air which had settled over the
house after little Patty's death having been too much for Blaine Maxwell to
bear.  He and Taine had never been particularly close anyway, the
now-weeping angel in front of me explained, but he still missed his
brother.

But who he missed most of all, of course, was his mother.  She had been
there for him every step of the way, and although Sly was doing his best
since her death -- and had certainly stepped up since they had moved to San
Antonio -- Taine still resented his absence during the vast majority of his
excruciatingly painful childhood.

As much as I wanted to comfort him, I stayed where I was, silently
encouraging him with my equally-watering and sorrowful eyes to continue.

To his credit, he did, although his slender body was now wracked with sobs,
hunched over almost to his knees, his voice barely rising above a ragged
whisper.  His pain was incredible, overwhelming, and seemed to grip me and
the entire room in a cold, black vise of anguish from which, for him, there
was no hope of escape.

It was inside him, it ran through every fiber of his being, this darkness,
this agony, and now he was showing it to me, laying it bare in front of me.

When he was done, he continued to cry, but looked up at me with wet,
hopeless eyes.  Eyes which seemed to have gone completely empty and black.
Eyes which were sending me a clear, deadly serious message.

This is who I am, those eyes said.  This is me all the time.  This is me
every second and every minute of every day and every night.  This is Taine
Maxwell, and this is all that I have for you.  Don't love me.  Don't,
don't, don't, because what is inside me will destroy you just as it is
destroying me.

"Everything I touch... seems to die..." he croaked hoarsely, then returned
his eyes to his feet, replacing his cap on his head as Foxy leapt from the
bed and wandered out of the room.

Somewhere outside, as if summoned by Taine's words and his pain, a heavy
rain had begun to fall.

I didn't say anything for a long time.

Although Taine had been frustrated by his ability to articulate his story
at the beginning, he had soldiered on bravely until he could.  And he
painted a picture so bleak, so devoid of life or joy, so solitary and
bereft of anything approaching hope, that there seemed to be no words in
any language with which I could adequately respond.

So I simply listened, trying as best I could to communicate my compassion,
love, and empathy through reddened eyes.

Taine had courage. No one could stand in his shoes and keep walking every
day without it. Parts of the mystery were now solved in my head.  He was
not really a distant, ethereal angel.  Taine was very human and he was a
fifteen year old teenager who felt that he was cursed with eternal solitude
and the touch of death.  He had lost his mother, his sister, his brother,
his extended family, and his best friend.

Taine stood and walked to the window, looking out into the back yard, tears
still falling from his eyes.  Something clicked in my mind then.  It
occured to me that it was up to me.  I was the missing piece.

I got up slowly from the bed and walked behind Taine, who seemed as if he
would collapse at a touch.  I risked it, slowly placing my left hand on his
left shoulder.  He didn't flinch, didn't seem to react at all.  It was as
if everything had poured out of him and he was now empty, wrung-out and
flat.  Slowly, gently, I wrapped my right arm around his waist, laying my
head on his right shoulder and hugging him closer to me.

I only hugged him for a moment before retreating, afraid of overstepping
again at a crucial moment, but Taine turned to me then, his eyes still
leaking tears, and met my gaze.  We spoke volumes to each other through our
eyes, our hearts and souls melding as the rain continued to fall outside.

We both knew that this was the moment, that there would be no turning back.

With an almost imperceptible nod, Taine gave his assent.

I took him in my arms, then, and he let me.

And then his cap was falling to the floor and our lips were together and
his arms were around me and he was kissing me back.  We tumbled back onto
my bed, desperately clutching at each other, kissing and squeezing and
trying only to get closer, to fill all of our emptiness and pain and need
with each other's, as if somehow two negatives would make the positive that
we both hungered for so much in our lives, in our souls.

And for the first time since we had met, for the first time in my life, I
felt complete and whole and exactly where I was supposed to be... and it
was magic.

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

Thank you for reading Chapter 18 & 19.  To be continued...

Once again, I'm always happy to hear from readers at DJAkeeba@aol.com.  You
have all been so supportive and encouraging, and I thank you all for your
e-mails, and there's plenty more of this story to come.

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