Date: Sat, 22 Feb 2003 04:33:54 -0500
From: Tom Cup <tom_cup@hotmail.com>
Subject: In Memory of Steve - Chapter 6, A/Y,  interracial, incest

Copyright 2000, 2001, 2002 by the Paratwa Partnership: A Colorado
Corporation. All rights reserved.

No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any
means electronic or mechanical, except in the case of reviews, without
written permission from the Paratwa Partnership, Inc, 354 Plateau Drive,
Florissant, CO 80816

This is a fictional story involving alternative sexual relationships. If
this type of material offends you, please do not read any further. This
material is intended for mature adult audiences. Names, characters,
locations and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination
or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events or locales, or
persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

************************************************************************
In Memory of Steve
Chapter 6
Who's Guilty

I began to notice Angie's eyes watching me. Though I tried not to appear to
notice, it bothered me that whenever I said anything to Steve, Angie seemed
to be there in an instance. I also notice that Steve and I were left alone
less and less. It wasn't anything overt -- where Angie once had preferred to
shop alone, or with mom, she now insisted that Steve and the baby went along
-- I was left alone more often than not. I began to feel both stressed by the
situation and depressed. I had trouble eating and sleeping. Masturbation was
often started but not finished and when I did reach completion I wound up
weeping; my heart hurt from the lack of intimacy I was allowed to have with
Steve.

Those `only child' days had come to visit again. Though Angie was my half
sister, in my eyes I was an only child. She lived with her mom and step-dad
for most of the month but spent every other weekend with us. Angie and I
passed as strangers during her two weekends a month visits. She seemed
ridiculous to me during those four days a month, pretending that somehow she
was the center of attention in my parents' life. She was a phantom that
appeared, produced minor disruptions of schedules, and then was gone without
a trace, nothing more. Mom, Dad and me would resume our roles as singular
child and parents -- Mom and Dad continuing on their upward mobile crusade
and I entertaining myself the best I could with television, the computer and
video games -- I hated the emptiness and loneliness of it all. I was resigned
to live a life void of passion, and then I met Steve. I cried knowing that I
would rather die than return to the isolation of my parent's protective
custody.

Six weeks after the ski trip, I was sitting in the den watching a movie:
Chuck and Amazing Grace. The movie is about a kid around my age and a black
basketball player that accidentally start a movement to ban nuclear weapons.
In the movie, the kid and basketball player become best friends. Then, some
high-pressure money people kill the basketball player. I couldn't take it. I
started crying. Dad came in and wanted to know what was wrong. I told him it
was just the stupid movie but he insisted that there was more to it. I got
mad and just went to my room. Anyway, Mom came up not to long afterwards and
started beating around the bush about what was bothering me.

"You know you can tell me anything?" she said.

"I know."

"Well, why don't you tell me what's bothering you?"

"Nothing it was just that stupid movie."

"Mike, if there's something going on that your Dad and I need to know about,
you need to tell us."

"Like what?"

"Well, we know how close you and Steve have become but there are certain
lines..."

"What are you talking about," I blurted, knowing full well what she meant.

"Well, sometimes men can become too close to boys. I mean..."

"I know what you mean," I answered angrily, "You think Steve is doing
something bad with me. How could you? Why do you think I would let him do
bad things to me?"

"No, it's just that some times kids don't know when bad things are
happening. That's all."

"Mom I'm not stupid. They give us sex talks all the time in school."

"OK, honey. But if you ever need to talk, you let us know."

And that was it. She left and I knew that they suspected. My only thought
was how to tell Steve. I feared that they might know but pushed it out of my
mind. I didn't know what to do. I just wanted to be with him. I cried myself
to sleep that night realizing that I might never be with Steve again.

Within two weeks of that conversation, Angie announced that she and Steve
had found a townhouse that they wanted to buy. They had the down payment
saved and could afford the mortgage but needed a co-signer on the loan. My
parents agreed. I was crushed. I didn't come out of my room much, what was
the point? Angie had won. Steve and I passed eyes at each other as the days
went by, and occasionally we had time to speak in private to one another,
but there was no intimate time spent together. As summer came, they began
moving out.

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

With summer came bar-be-ques, summer parties, neighborhood gatherings and
the like. I had friends that I hung out with at school and I tried to forget
my longing for Steve. He and Angie came around less and less. They never
came over for Sundays anymore. I just wanted to see him. I had come to a
point were, if I couldn't be his boyfriend, I wanted to at least be his
friend, the brothers that we talked about. I understood the trouble we could
get in, he could get in, if we continued to have sex together. I didn't want
him in trouble. But I did want to see him; I wanted to at least be near him.

When I asked Dad and Mom in the kitchen one Sunday after church, why Angie
and Steve never came over anymore, Dad tired to sound dispassionate but I
could tell he was hiding anger and suspicion.

"We think you need to spend time with kids your own age. Besides, Steve has
a family of his own to care for."

"So does everybody else and we spent time with other families."

"That's not the point."

"I don't understand why they just stopped coming over."

"Mike, let's just leave well enough alone."

They weren't going to talk to me. They had made their decision and I was
supposed to accept it. I went to my room, lay across my bed, and cried. Mom
came up and began petting me on the back. I didn't want her touching me but
reframed from jerking away. She said they discovered that Steve had spent
far too much money on me. The ski trip was a big deal. I told her that Steve
just wanted to have a good meal, that he knew the meal was a bit out of his
price range but since it would be only a once a year, maybe life time event,
he wanted us to enjoy ourselves. Mom looked at me suspiciously.

"You don't just spend that kind of money and expect nothing in return."

"What do you mean?"

"Come on Mike! Dad takes me to restaurants like that when we want to get
away."

"That's all we were doing."

"Honey, a get a away of that nature often involves sex."

"I told you!"

"I know, I know.... But..."

"But what? Tell me!"

"You were spending an awfully lot of time together, alone."

"I told you nothing happened! Why don't you believe me? He's my friend! My
best friend! He's my brother! The only brother I've ever had and you're
taking him away. You won't let me see him. I hate you. I hate you!

I was in such a daze for the rest of the evening I didn't want to talk to
Mom or Dad. I decided to be like Chuck in the movie that I watched. I
decided not to talk. It was probably a stupid thing to do; no, it was a
stupid thing to do. The next thing I knew I was in therapy. It really
sucked.

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

"Do you know why you're here, Michael?"

I raised an eyebrow. I would bet anything that Mom or Dad told him to call
me that, I hated being called Michael.

"Is something wrong?"

I signaled for something to write with.

"Why don't you just tell me what's wrong? You're not mad at me are you?"

I shook my head, no.

"Well, then we can talk. So what's bothering you?"

I signaled for something to write with.

"Michael that's not how it works here. We talk to each other and try to find
solutions together. You do want to find a solution to the problem that
you're having with your parents, don't you?

I nodded and signaled for something to write with.

The psychologist sat back and stared at me. I stared back. From that one
session without me speaking one word, he decided that I had been through
some traumatic event. He didn't say what this event was, he just was sure
that I needed to meet with him once a week so he could help me discover the
root of my problem. I hated him, I hated my parents, and I hated life.

I went to visit him for seven weeks. I would weep from the moment we left
the house until we got to his office door. He kept asking questions. I kept
asking for something to write with. He refused and we would spend most of
the fifty-minute hour avoiding each other's gaze. After each session I would
write a summary of what had happened for Mom, mostly nothing, and complain
that he wouldn't give me anything to write with.

That night I heard Mom and Dad arguing down stairs. It went on for over an
hour before they quieted down. Mom came up stairs after it was over. She
sighed deeply.

"What's it going to take Mikey?

I wrote on a piece of paper, `Why should I talk to you when you don't
believe a word I say?'

Mom sighed again. "OK, What do you want?"

I wrote, `to see my big brother.'

"OK," Mom said, "Will you say something now?"

`No,' I wrote, `You didn't believe me. I don't believe you.'

Mom crumpled the paper angrily. I thought she was going to hit me. But she
didn't; she left my room, slamming the door behind her.

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

The day after my seventh session Steve came over. I was happy to see him
until I looked into his eyes; they were blood shot and angry.  My breathing
was heavy. My heart was pounding. Mom and Dad watched out the front door as
I went to the car.

"What are you doing Mike? Mom and Dad are beside themselves. What are you
doing?"

"I... I... I just wanted to see you."

"Mike you know I've been busy. I have the new house, Angie, Christopher and
a new baby on the way. I love you but we just can't spend as much time
together as we used to."

"No, that's not the reason you don't come around anymore. I know the real
reason."

"It is the real reason Mike. The only reason. Give us some time to get
settled in and then maybe we can come by."

"No! You said we were brothers. I'm so alone Steve, please!"

I watched Steve's eyes go to the door. I could see him relax. Mom and Dad
had heard enough and had moved away. Steve placed a hand on my shoulder and
we moved farther from the house but spoke in low tones.

"God Mikey, you're going to make the shit hit the fan. You got to stop this
not talking thing."

"It worked. I got to see you."

"Yeah, but now they're even more suspicious. Even Angie. You have to calm
down."

"I miss you so much Steve. You don't know what it's like."

"Yes, I do. I love you, little man. We'll figure out something but no more
silent treatment. OK?"

"OK," I agreed. He ruffled my hair. I looked up and smile at him. I wanted
to kiss him but his eyes looked again at the house. They were watching
again. "Can I at least hug you?"

Steve sighed. "Well," he whispered and grinned, "as long as we don't grab
each other's butt I guess it's OK.

We did hug, not for as long as I wanted but long enough for me to remember
what his body felt like and smelled like. We sat on the stoop and talked for
almost two hours. I told him everything that I could think of, everything
that made so little difference to anyone but he and I, everything that had
happened since the last time we talked. He said, that if it was all right
with Mom and Dad, I could call and we would talk when I felt like talking.
He told me that he was sorry that I felt like he had abandoned me. We both
knew that was more for Mom and Dad's benefit than mine. Steve took the
blame. Mom and Dad held the guilt. I began calling Steve each night before I
went to bed.

************************************************************************
To support this and other writings by Tom Cup, visit http://www.tomcup.com

Send comments to: comments@tomcup.com

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