Date: Thu, 14 Apr 2005 17:21:01 +0000
From: M Williams <kollegekid54321@hotmail.com>
Subject: Living with a Past - Chapter 1

- DISCLAIMER - The following story, novel, or chapter
contains homosexual themes and is not intended for anyone
under the legal viewing age - If depictions of homosexual
activities disturb you - Do Not Continue To Read This Story
- Feedback appreciated

Copyright - 2005 - Max Williams
(Kollegekid54321@hotmail.com)


Chapter 1

     This is the story of a young man named Jason Colby.
I've never written many things before, and I don't profess
to be too good at it, but I am going to try writing this.
The past year of his life has been too much of a work of
fiction to not try and write down, and I think - I hope that
his is a story that people need to hear.
     Jason grew up in upstate New York - in the middle of
what people have dubbed `the Rust Belt' swath of old
industrial cities along the great lakes. Life there was all
right; good hot summers and pleasantly snowy winters.  He
lived in a little town called Capetown, NY, on Lake Erie,
although he went to high school in Cape City, five miles
away.  High school itself was always fine by him - he was
good at sports and played hockey and soccer, and had been
with his girlfriend, Meghan, for almost three years by the
time they were both seniors at Capetown High.  Jason was
fairly attractive, augmented by a body hardened by four
years of athletics, and was perfectly contented with his own
little world.  Meghan was one of the prettier girls in
school, and her kind-although-condescending personality
complimented his laid-back-if-narrow-minded one perfectly.
They'd been fucking for almost as long as they'd been
dating, which the hockey and soccer teams gladly knew, and
Jason was held in high regard because of it.  His life was
fine.  Except for one thing.
     Jason Colby's parents were nightmares.  This was a fact
that no one knew except for Jason and Jason's aunt, and even
then only because they were in the family.  But Phillip and
Pamela Colby were the most argumentative, condescending,
ignorant, poisonous people that had ever consented to have a
child in Capetown history.  And the only person that knew
was that child - Jason.  This is why, when the weather
finally broke one Thursday after the winter of 2004, and for
the first time in 5 months Jason woke up to a bedroom full
of warm sunlight, he groaned at the day ahead of him through
sleepy malaise.
     "Jason!"  A shrill voice called through his bedroom
door that immediately pulled him out of his groggy stupor.
He heard the knob rustling and took the one moment he knew
he had to cover himself fully with his sheet.  He preferred
to sleep in his boxers, although he knew that his
conservative mother would never approve of it, which is why
he pulled his sheet up over his bare tan shoulders before
the door popped open with a startling splinter.  "Jason!
What have I told you about locking your door?!  Now you've
gone and broken the trim because you feel the need to
imprison yourself in here.  Honestly, what is it you're up
to that I'm not supposed to see?  Hmmm?"  Pam Colby spent
approximately half a second during this speech glancing at
her alert son, and went immediately to the window and opened
it.  Her sharp eyes looked all over the floor as she
addressed him again.  "There - it's a beautiful day outside!
You really do need to get up earlier, now, Jason, and take
advantage of it.  Smell that spring air!  Oh, and clean up
this mess, I can't stand it when you keep my house so dirty"
She smiled at him for another half a second, and then went
to leave his tiny room again when she stopped at looked at
his face.  In truth, his expression had become so anxious
because of the great quantities of cold air suddenly blowing
through the open window - it wasn't spring yet - but all his
mother saw was a personal slur on her son's face.  "Jason!
Wipe that expression off your face right now, why, anyone
would think that I'm torturing you!!  Really, I don't know
why you're always trying to make me feel so awful about the
things I do to help y - are you wearing any clothes under
there?!"  He had moved noncommittally to one side and the
sheet had slipped off his toned shoulder and chest - the
sight of the bronze skin and muscular lines incensed his
mother, and she went on, "I honestly think that's a little .
. . adult . . . don't you?  I mean, I don't really believe
you know what it means to be sleeping so . . . in that . . .
like that."
     "Adult?" he asked, pushing back his straight brown hair
and blinking, confused.
     "Yes, adult - which you're not!  The only time people
sleep in their underwear is when they're doing something
that you're too young to understand.  Now get downstairs and
stop torturing me and embarrassing me.  Honestly . . ."
Jason sighed with relief as his mother left the room, and
fell back into his bed, letting the sheet slip off his chest
to his waist.  The years on the sports field had rounded out
his frame, giving him a solid muscular look, although he
lacked the intense definition that some of his team mates
had gone above and beyond to accomplish.  But his brown skin
and scant darker brown trail still cut quite a sight for the
five minutes that he continued to lay in his bed, dappled
with the spring sunshine.  Then he got up.
     He didn't give much thought to his family these days at
the beginning of high school he had had some problems with
them, with his mother constantly overstepping his boundaries
with her overburdening and over-protectiveness, and then
again with his father's complete lack of involvement and
interest in Jason's life.  Jason had acted out, like most
teens, and then finally realized that his parents were who
they were, and had made the decision to stay that way.  He
stopped with the drugs, stopped with the staying out late,
and simply did the best he could.  School still went by the
wayside, given his immense interior belief that anything
worth doing wasn't worth doing for him, but his love of
sports kept him on the teams, which he needed to keep up
minimum grades for.  So he had a system that caught him and
kept him from doing badly.  And then Meghan, well, wow,
Meghan - Meghan was his saving grace.  She had been the
first girl he had dated after his `bad period', and he
enjoyed it immensely.  He loved her for loving him, and
despite their problems, stuck with her as much as he could.
Especially when Fredo was around . . .  Fredo had been
Jason's best friend during the `bad period', and Jason
wanted nothing to do with him anymore . . .  Fredo ran track
and acted in the musicals, and Fredo had had other
extracurricular interests as well . . . which Jason shut off
his mind from thinking about whenever it drifted there these
days.  Okay fine, so Jason hadn't been a virgin when he met
Meghan . . . but any further details he kept to himself, and
on this particular morning he shook his head as he got out
of the shower.
     This was going to be a tough morning for him.  Already,
his mother had picked out a few things to nag him about, and
for some reason Fredo was on the brain after . . . Jason
thought for a moment . . . six, seven months of not thinking
about him?  Jason never went to the track meets and had
avoided seeing the musical, and had gone over half a year
without once mentioning that name.
     "Huh.  Whatever"  Jason roused himself just by hearing
himself speak, and, wrapping a towel around himself, left
the second floor bathroom and walked the short hall back to
his own room.  He stopped short in surprise when his father
suddenly came out, and almost lost his towel.
     "Oh jeez, I didn't see you there" Jason said, tucking
himself back in.  "I'm sor -"
     "Yeah, well, if you were in your room like you're
supposed to be, you wouldn't've knocked me over", said his
short-ish, balding, and frowning father with smoke-scented
breath.  "Honestly, kid.  And get out of that towel before
your mom gets on the warpath about it.  It creeps me out too
to see you in your skivvies.  For God's sake -" His father
went on down the stairs, and Jason went into his room, shut
his door and hit it.  He went to lock it, remembered that
the catch was on the bedroom floor now, and just lamely
propped a chair against the knob.
     The room was freezing and before doing anything else,
he went to the window and shut it, then looked out.  Old
Mrs. Cremshaw was in the next yard, shoveling the dwindling
pile of melting, dirty snow out of the driveway for her
husband, who always ran late.  His gaze moved over to the
sidewalk across the street, where three little sisters,
blonde copies of one another, walked to school.  The middle
one was on a bicycle, and as Jason watched, she happened to
look up at his window.  He saw her face brighten as she
grabbed her sisters and pointed, and the three of them
laughed.  It was then that he realized he was still half
naked, and giving them a confused sort of hurt look, backed
from the window and sat down at his desk.
     "Jason!  JA-SON!  Close your window, your mother is
freezing down here!"
     Jason gave the same confused, hurt look to his door,
and after a moment it turned into a nasty sneer at the
throaty yell coming up the stairs. He then threw a sneaker
at his bedroom door.
     "THAT HAD BETTER HAVE BEEN THE WINDOW CLOSING, KID!!"
     "IT WAS", Jason yelled back.  Sometimes, it was all he
could do to keep his mind.  Hefting the other sneaker in his
hand and looking longingly at his door, he dropped it and
just decided to get going.  Resignedly, he pulled off his
towel and started dressing his strong, lean body.