Date: Fri, 30 Aug 2002 13:46:49 EDT
From: Lherelenfeline@aol.com
Subject: Of meetings 2

By Julian K. Pearlson

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The copyright to this story belongs to the author who can be reached at
Lherelenfeline@aol.com, please don't use it without permission. Secondly, if
you object to male/male relationships you shouldn't be reading this. neither
should you be at this site. The content is purely fictional and all if any
similarities to any actual events are curcumstantional. This all said, enjoy
your reading.

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Of Meetings

He lay back on the dirty motel sheets and sighed for the thousandth time as
his relentless channel surf tuned up nothing, yet again. What else was he to
expect? This was a cheap motel after all and did he really deserve better? He
was a coward. He knew it. Eileen was at home, or what used to be home for
them for the last three months. He could also be there, but he was a coward.
A fucking coward! He was nothing more than that. A better man would have
stayed and faced John, but he bolted leaving him to explain to her exactly
why he ran. Hopefully she'll forget him and find someone good enough for her.
John deserved it too, after all, why should two good people suffer just
because he's been a horny bastard?

    Frustrated , he turned off the TV and turned over in his nest of dingy
polyester. E hadn't been out of bed in more than a week. The shoulder length
hair would normally be strawberry blonde but at present it looked like week
old pigeon droppings. The pungent smell of old sweat and whiskey permeated
the air and the dust had long settled on unused furniture. He hadn't left the
room at all. The "Do Not Disturb" sign outside was untouched. He had paid for
the room through tomorrow night, he still had time to think about it all..
Honestly though, he really didn't want to.

    He rolled over and reached for the bottle on the night stand. The glass
contained was an unlovable weight in his hand. Hopefully there'd be some more
left. He shook the bottle and tipped it up-side-down.  Nothing came out.. Not
even a drop. Suddenly overwhelmed by the difficulty of his position, he
curled into a ball and finally fell into oblivion. He was at the bar again,
discordant wail of Bjork pounding on his abused ears. This would be the last
time. Eileen was too good to let go. He loved her, really he did. So what if
he thought of men when they were together? He leaned over the bar and got
another beer. He was drinking too much , he knew, but it would be the last
time. Might as well let himself go. This life wasn't for him. All the sweaty
bodies writhing on the dance floor and dancing a different sort of a
choreography in the many darkened alcoves along the walls. This wasn't what
he wanted. He wanted, needed and craved kids. A family and as dumb as it
sounded, he wanted commitment.  There was no way he'd get it here. Wants
weren't the same as needs. This would be his farewell to indulging his wants.
He picked up a screw driver and went back into the fray. "Mind if I borrow
this?" a voice asked and the world stopped..

    He jerked awake, sweat pooling around him. Fifth time in five nights. Why
couldn't he dream of Eileen instead? He loved her, right? His thoughts turned
to her and their relationship, or what used to be their relationship anyway.
She was the sweetest person he knew, always there, always understanding. Over
the months heed known her she'd become his best friend, his "go-to" person,
and closest confidant. He trusted her as he'd never trusted anyone before.
There was something incredibly warm  in the huge blue eyes ,and pixie like
figure hid enormous emotional strength. The long and the short of it, she was
incredible, a dream come reality and yes, he loved her. But what sort of a
love was it? There wasn't a crazy rush of happiness when he saw her, neither
was there any profound sadness  when she left. Instead , there was a sense of
 safety, and comfort and for the lack of a better word, home.. Isn't it the
way love was supposed to be?  Wasn't a man's wife supposed to be his best
friend? If so , then why was he happier that night with John  than all the
nights he'd spent in her arms? Why was he too weak to refuse him? He still
loved Eileen. He wanted her to be happy and Gods knew he'd do anything for
her. He wanted to protect her, and love her, and be with her… and yet he
wanted John. The two of them deserved so  much better than him and his
bullshit. Really, it would be so much better if he just left. He'd file for
transfer tomorrow and hopefully it would be active by the end of the summer.
With that resolution , his tired brain  shut down  and Chris fell into the
dreamless abyss.. For the first time in more than a week, he didn't wake from
memories.

    Fifteen days later he stood in front of the Rutgers university dorms and
shook his head in dismay. The grounds were unkempt and dirty. People, at
least the ones he's met so far , were vitriolic enough to him gag or were
trying to get into his pants , quite openly so. It would be a while before he
allowed himself to get close to anyone. In fact, if it was up to him, he'd do
his best to make sure no-one was ever in Eileen's place ever again. This shit
was his own to deal with and that was exactly what he'd do. He ran his
fingers through his newly buzzed hair and made his way to the ancient
building. Maybe he'd gone a bit overboard with the hair , but the need for
punishment was too great. No use wondering about it now though; he'd go to
class tomorrow.


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Herein lies the second part of the tale, Enjoy yourselves and do write ...