Date: Mon, 2 Dec 2002 22:06:29 EST
From: SCASS3254@aol.com
Subject: Be Who You Are

			      Be Who You Are
			     Scass3254@aol.com


	Tom Armstrong had heard the angry shouts, the taunting and
belittlement that his father heaped upon him whenever "the old man", had
too much to drink or was drunk which was often. His mother was always there
to defend and protect him at the cost of being slapped around by a man who
was both a nasty bully and a tyrant. As a kid, Tom hid in the toilet and
let the water run full blast so he didn't hear his father's angry shouts
and ranting.  As if running water would wash away the anger and his
mother's tears as she begged her husband to be nice. "He's your son. Why
can't you love him? What has the poor boy done that you hate him so?" How
often had she said it only to be slapped for wanting her husband to love
her little boy?

 	"It's your fault that he's the way he is. Just look at him? He's
fat and ugly and you don't help by stuffing his face and babying him. A boy
should be out playing football but you have him baking and cooking. You
have turned him into a sissy, a little girl who plays with dolls. He's
different all right, he's a fag."

	Different. His father's words where hurtful and cruel to a little
boy. Tom had only tried to please his mother who had given him love and
understanding something that he desperately wanted from his father. But no
matter what he did, his father shunned and admonished him.

	"Your son's a queer." It wasn't "our" son but "your" son and it was
always said with hostility and animosity. "I'm not sure that he's even
mine? He doesn't look like me. No son of mine is going to be a "queer" and
live in this house."

	Tom stood in front of a mirror and saw a fat boy with rosy cheeks
and he hated himself for being heavy. Look at the pain that he brought and
caused his mother.

	"Nobody wants him as a friend. All they have to do is look and know
that he's a fag." He spit the words out. "Next you'll be having fatso
dressed as a girl." His father was drunk and the liquor only made him
meaner. His mother tried to stay out of his way but he cornered her. "The
only one that bothers with him except for you is that crazy old man with
the dogs that lives down the street. Well, he can have him! They're two of
a kind. That old man's a pervert and so is your son." He slapped her once
more then stormed out the house.

	His words cut like a surgeon's scalpel and watching his mother
sitting at the kitchen table crying, hurt Tom more then the hate that his
father had for him. In time, Tom created a world of his own and books and
movies became his ally and friend. Lost in a darkened theater, he watched
the heroes on the screen and wanted to be like them.  At night when the sun
went down he would walk along the beach with Mr. Hargrove and his two
dogs. In the fading light they would talk about a book they had both read
or a movie they had gone to see. Somehow, Tom felt safe with Bill Hargrove
who made him feel wanted and loved something that he wanted and needed from
his father but knew that he would never get.

	Tom never saw Bill as an older, heavy man with the big belly and
the watery eyes and five o'clock shadow.  What Tom did see was a man keenly
aware of who and what he was. Bill Hargrove never judged others. He only
encouraged Tom and in Bill, Tom found the love that he desperately wanted.

	"We can't help who we are, "Bill would say and throw a stick for
the dogs to fetch as they sat on a large rock watching the shrimp fleet
coming in at sunset with their catch. He talked of a world out there that
was waiting to be explored and that Tom would discover. "We can help be the
people that we want to be. Tom, God gave you a brain and a good one. You'll
find your way like others before us who have faced greater obstacles then
our being heavy. Who you become is up to you." He hugged Tom. "Don't let
the hatred and bitterness of others get in your way. Use it to energize
you. The greatest revenge is success and happiness. Life is too short and
there are too many important things to do like eating, which by the way."
He smiled and his grin was infectious. "I've made the most fabulous fish
stew and would like you to be my guest this evening. Then we could go to
the movies afterwards."

	When Tom was fifteen, he stood over six foot two and muscles
replaced his heaviness. He was big and strong but now his size impressed
people. No longer did they taunt or make fun of him as he walked by. Now
people smiled and were friendly. He played tackle on the football team and
was gaining a statewide reputation and college scouts flocked to watch him
play.

 	One night as he was leaving the house to visit Bill Hargrove, his
father came out of the bedroom and he was drunk. He had on a ripped T Shirt
exposing a hairy chest. His hair was disheveled and he hadn't bathed in
days.

	"Where are you going?" he demanded. "You're not going anywhere
tonight but here and making me supper since your damn mother is out
visiting her sister. If you think you're going to see that fat slob that
you're in love with you've got another think coming. I know why you're so
chummy with him. I bet that old fag likes them big and fat like you. Does
he fuck you in the ass, or you him?" His father taunted Tom but he just
smirked knowing his not responding would anger him. His father was big and
strong but Tom was no longer afraid of him. "Is he a good cocksucker?
Maybe, you'll suck your old man if I let you?" The words spewed out of his
mouth and they were ugly. "I bet that you want it? I bet you want my dick
inside of you begging me to cum inside of you? Your mom is dead in the sack
and you might as well have your lips around my dick tasting my load. Your
mom's a tired, used up bitch anyway with a tired old cunt."

	Tom erupted. All the hate and anger that he felt for his father
came spilling out of him. He reached out and grabbed his father by the
throat and squeezed hard cutting off his father's breath and watched as he
struggled to free himself. There was fear in his eyes as he fought for
breath as Tom's viselike grip chocked the life out of him. Angrily, Tom
threw him against the wall and watched as his father crumpled to the ground
in a heap. Like a cat, Tom sprung forward and was on the floor next to him,
his face inches from his face smelling his father's stale scent and boozy
breath.

	"If I ever hear you utter another word against mom, I'll kill
you. But next time it will be painful. You can talk about me and call me
all the names you want but if you ever touch her again you will wish that
you were dead."

	His father cowered in a corner against the wall, fear in his eyes.
His nose was running and spittle formed at his mouth. He tried to get up
but Tom pushed him harshly to the floor making him hit his head hard.

	"Now listen to me, you tired old drunk. You should be one-tenth the
man that Bill Hargrove is. He's educated and decent, something that you're
not and will never be. You're pitiful like those morons that you hang out
with who think of him as a loser, but you're the only loser. Look at you?
You're a pitiful drunk. You can't keep a job and if it wasn't for mom
working and busting her hump, we would be out on the street. You're no man.
You're nothing." He leaned down and stared into his father's face smelling
the booze. "Remember, if you ever touch mom again, I'll kill you. That's
not a threat but a promise I will enjoy keeping."

	"I want you out of my house," his father shouted as Tom slammed the
door.

	That night Tom moved in with Bill Hargrove and his life changed.
Tom never looked back and Bill Hargrove took him in with open arms and
heart. It crushed Tom's mother but she knew that it was best thing that
could happen to her son and she was right. When Tom was ready to graduate
from high school his mother died from cancer. With Bill Hargrove's help, he
buried her and never saw his father again. With his mother gone, the house
that he had lived in as a child was sold and his father disappeared never
to be heard from again.

	Tom prospered living with Bill Hargrove. He won a scholastic
scholarship ever though every Division I school was after him offering
football scholarships.  Bill was the father that Tom never had and the bond
between them grew over the years.

	Tom had few friends by choice. Bill tried to encourage him to make
and bring friends home but Tom never did. He preferred to be alone and Bill
never pushed him knowing that he was the same way at his age. When the time
was right he would seek out friendships and relationships.

	"What do I need friends for when I have you?" Tom would say.

	"Because one day, I won't be around. You can't live your life in a
vacuum. Not everybody is unkind. Good friends are to be treasured and one
day you will find that out."

	Tom would raise his eyebrows. He had blue eyes and closely cropped
brown hair with fine features. He was handsome and ruggedly masculine. The
fat, ugly duckling had metamorphosed.

 "When I was big and fat, they called me fatso, slug, ugly and names that
hurt and crushed me. I cried myself to sleep at night because nobody except
my mother and you were kind and saw that I had potential to be somebody.
You know what I'm talking about?" His lips were full. "You have heard the
same ugly words that were mean and thoughtless directed at you. Now, that
I'm an all American candidate, everybody wants to be my friend."

	Bill shook his head. "You, in your own way are as prejudicial as
the people who called you names." He put his arm around Tom's shoulder.
"I'm sure that there are a few ladies at school that find you very
attractive because of you and not your football abilities."

	Tom laughed. "Pop," he called Bill, Pop from the day that he moved
in. "I'm not interested in women. Never have and never will be. Don't get
me wrong. I like them but my interest sexually is in men. Does that
surprise you?"

	Bill Hargrove's jowls hung from his broad face and showed his
surprise. He sat there not able to speak. He had a handsome face with
thick, white hair that he wore combed back. He ran his strong fingers
through it. When he finally spoke, his voice was husky. "It shocks the hell
out of me. Over the years, I thought you were shy and felt ill at ease
because of your weight. But as you matured, I thought that you would
discover women. I had no idea."

	"I'm gay like you. I'll bet that also surprises you that I know?
I've known for years. I never said anything because I figured if you wanted
me to know you would have told me."

	Bill didn't know what to say but sat there quietly gathering his
thoughts. Today was a day of surprises for him.

	"Years ago I followed you when you went out on those Friday nights
to see an old friend that I never met. I wondered why if he was such a good
friend that he never came to the house. I suspected that you were gay and
watched you go into a bar. I stood outside looking in and saw the men who
came and went and my suspicions were confirmed. I didn't want you to be
lonely and unhappy and hoped that you had found someone." I was happy that
you were looking for relief and when you came home really late, I knew that
you were with somebody."

	Bill looked at him with a surprised expression. "You followed me
and never said that you knew about my proclivity?"

	"Pop, we all have dark secrets that we hide. I have known that I
was gay since I was a kid. My father knew it and I guess he hated me for
it. I have never been with a man but I know that," he hesitated and pursed
his lips and bit on the upper one. "I know that I'm gay."

	Bill laughed. "You learn something every day. Here, I was being
secretive and hiding my lifestyle from you so you had the choice to decide
your own life choices and here we are a couple of gays living in the same
household. You continue to amaze me."

	"I'll tell you something else since we're playing "Truth and
Consequence," Tom said.

	"What's that?"

	"I've been in love with you since the day that I first met you. It
has never been anyone else but you."

	"Me, I'm big and heavy and not particularly attractive.

	"Maybe to some. To me you're very handsome and desirable. I have
discovered that I like heavy, older men. Call it an abnormality, a fetish,
or whatever name that suits my proclivity. I have discovered that there are
quite a few of what is referred to as chubby chasers out there. Do you
realize that I have jerked off for years seeing you naked and dreamed one
day that you would make love to me. I never said anything to you not
knowing how you would react."

	"How did you think that I would react?"

	"I didn't know and was afraid to find out."

	Bill got up and touched Tom's face. "I have loved you like the son
that I've never had. To love you as a man would make me a happy man knowing
that you loved me back."

	Tom kissed Bill sweetly on the lips and stood there in an embrace.