Date: Thu, 1 Nov 2001 17:03:10 -0800
From: Tim Stillman <novemberhourglass@yahoo.com>
Subject: "The Boy He Loved"

			    "The Boy He Loved"

				    by

			     Timothy Stillman



  Father Ignatius caut Van and me cuz we wuz
hugging together in my bed one night late. That priest wuz
really mean. He slammed on the lights in the room. Woke
all the boys in the other beds up. And as they wuz wipin
their eyes of sleep, they drilled them in on me and Van
naked as jaybirds with the sheet Father Ignatius whipped off
of us. There we wuz. Cradling each other in our arms. And
there was this great big roar of flame of laughter that just
half went through our skulls. I thought hell would rise up
through that miserable cold cement floor and elevator us
down to the Ninth Circle. Which Dante says is the worst.
Which I know about because the teachers here make us read
Dante. It's the St. Vincent School for Troubled Boys is
where we are at. Damn orphnge is what it is.

 It's a terrible thing when youre pulled naked out of
your bed. And your only friend in the whole world is pulled
out with you. By our arms. By Father Ignatius who is big
and tall and has a face like a block of wood. The guy never
laughs or nuthin. He's a real joy to be around. Van is cryin.
Van is 10. His name is Van Hoy. I'm 13. My name is Jerry
Chadwick. This is takin place in England where this is. Just
outside London. Its a poor boys school. A wastrals school.
Real rent boys are here that they done picked up off the
London streets at night and put in here cause this is kind of a
warehouse for unwanted boys. The place smells like rat
droppings all over the place.

 Its drafty and cold even in hot summers and we do
have some hot summers here in this place. And now Father
has me by one arm. On the other side is Van hes gripping
hard as hes gripping me, blood rushing from our arms as
those big mans big hands take charge of us, fingers long and
hurtin us and curled grinding into our elbows, and then a
little move that takes them to our funny bones. Which aint
funny one bit. Feels like lectric charges goin through me.
Thought I was gonna die. Whats worse is Vans cryin real
hard. And hes brushing his nose and his eyes and the boys
we pass by on those dumb little hard as rock cots are pointin
at him and mimking him and callin both of us nancy boys
and rent boys, when some of them is too, and I want to kill
this man between the two of us. This man in the priest
clothes. This man of robes and crosses and eyes that are like
death on a shingle. This man with the broad shoulders and
the hurt eyes that look mean hurt. You never want to see
eyes that look mean hurt. Theyre the worst of all. Thats why
Ive taken, these days, not lookin in mirrors.

 My hard on won't go down. Van had just put his
hand to me when we got nabbed. Had just wiggled down the
foreskin. Which I try to pull up with my free hand, but
Father pushes it away. He looks hard and evil at me in the
face as I pull away, turn my head, as the moon milks itself
thro the long tall narrow windows as we walk through the
dorm and then out in the hall where the boys laughter still
splits our ears. And Van and I have to protect one another.
Not that Ignatius would hit us. He dont belive in no hittin or
corp-o-real punishment. He don't believe in nuthin but a
good talkin to. And embarrassin the living jesus out of us.

 After he got dun, we had to stand naked in the
lavatory for 3 hours. As each boy was marched in line one at
a time into the lavatory to look at us. And laugh at us. They
blew kissin sounds at us. They wadnt lowed to touch us.
They wadnt lowed to speak to us. The good father was bein
kind to us that way. They, some of them, Van and me knew
they buggered each other. Fur fun. We never saw them. But
we heard the sounds of it in their beds late at night.  Kind of
a rattling sigh. Van and me wuz buddies. I dont say mates or
chums or that other Brit rot. Cause thats what it is. Brit boys
are mean. I mean the ones here. And I only go by my
experiences. Im gonna be a merican some day so im tryin to
report on this land that is not my land. Like I wuz a reporter.
They just git their noses out of joint at all things. Especially
takin it. If youre givin it is one thing. I dun herd their
speriences in London at nite. But takin it is another thing
altogether. So Van and me couldnt touch in that smelly lav.
And Van and me had to hold our hands by our sides and not
close our eyes and look at every boy who passed us by. Who
stood and studied with their eyes eyes us. And they have
some real ice eyes I mean you to know. Our cocks went
limp then and we looked at ech other and wuz a millon
miles part. Couldnt protect each other at all. Just cold feet
and cold bodies takin our medcine. Shakin like we had the
flue. Bare is awful. Van looked at me so lost and little and
precius and lonely. God it was awful.

 So I'm writin' this down now. This happened three
nights ago. Father Ignatius layed down the rules. They could
make us turn around and round in circles in the lav. They
laughed and they were like Piggy in Lord of the Flies. A
mean Piggy. A Piggy who made us bend over and open our
butt cheeks. And they just made us feel like dead. They just
made Van and me both cry. I never cry. But I cryed that
night. It wadnt sexy or funny or anything. It was just all
shades of horrible. Or as my old man usta say orrible. Cause
we is all we have. Van and me. And we had never held each
other before that night we wuz catched. And of course they
catched us. Cause I never got away with nothin in my life.
And I wanted to go to Van who was forced to stand on the
other side of the lav, while I was on the opposite side. And
the boys lookin at us wuz echos. And they studied us like we
wuz statues or somethin most of them bustin a gut about  it
all. And the soap smells and the urene and the other smells
just made us want to stop breathin and lay down and give up
the ghost.

 It wad't till the next day about 5 in the afternoon we
got off by ourselves behind a barn at the far side of the
school where there are some milch cows and we hugged
each other and we cried on each other and I said I wuz so
sorry that I screwed up that way and Van must hate me a
whole lot. But Van brushin back the runs in the nose and the
eyes of his real pretty face that cried too often and held such
lonlines inside, he said it wuz nothin. That he got it all the
time. That it was just a cross to bear. It was fall by the way.
Late fall. The air wuz cold. The grass wuz brown. The trees
had dropped all their leaves and looked as freezin and
shiverin and naked and embarrassin as we did that night in
the lav. And that night later or early mornin as we lay in our
beds listenn to the words the boys call us. In those damned
accents. Those so veddy proper accents sayin those cruel
ugly words. Those words I d never use on another livin soul
no matter how mean they wuz to me just seemed to me so
crazy. So they use the right english grammer and they are
smart because they think they no more than me. Well, they
don't have to be so nasty about it. They dont have to treat
me and Van like we are in a borstal or nothin like that. Even
tho thats kinda what this is. We ain't crooks. We aint
convicts. We're just orphans just like them. And the poor is
spread around. And you cant disguise it with these black
uniforms we wear, by trying to speak proper english uptown
posh London and all that. The poverty wells on a person. On
them as much as on us.

 Im gonna leave this damn country one fine day, I tell
Van. I told him that behind the old run down red barn where
we hugged and knelt with each other. Both of us keepin
watch in case someone saw us. Both scared. Still shivering.
Our dicks had shrunk into our bodies when the boys kept
comin by in the lav. But they wuz stuck our like May poles
in total piss fear when Ignatius had us in his office. And sat
behind his huge mahogony desk and he read us the riot act
and quoted scriptur. And he looked at Van most of the time.
We had to stand at attentun. Like in the lav. And we
couldn't look away from the scary tall big man. Like I say
he looked at Van much often then. I wanted to kill that man.
Would have to if I couda. And other times before I
membered I had seen him look at Van real secret like. I had
noticed it but had not thought much of it before. When the
boys wuz at the chapel and confessional and saying their
prayers and all of that all the Fathers wuz around but
Ignatius looked at Van not the other boys. Looked at him
like Van wuz a pet. As he told us that night in his office that
was so by damn warm with heat from the pot belly stove it
liked to melt the ice off us though we shivered anyway, an
he told us homosexuality was a abominaton and if we wuz
goin to stay at the school for boys we had better stop muckin
up and start lissenin hard cause it wuz our souls on the line.

 Mostly though the mean words in that real culture
voice the big words the words that seemed like a country
that he walked around in in his head, during his saying them
barkin them he kept looking at Van. Mostly he kept lookin
at Vans penis. Which I gotta say is a lovely little penis. A
little flower. But so pale. Like it growed underground
somewhere in some deep dark windy mine which this
school really is with the sun seemin never to shine and us
havin to polish our shoes and the bedframes and the
classrooms and the prefects offices and the lavs and the door
handles all over the place and the long windin wooden stairs
in all these buildins and us havin to take turns giving what
for with the milch cows and all of that, and mix in that with
our studies that go on from before dawn to almost after
sunset, so we got our heads down all the time almost and
never see the sun when it might peak out of the sky ever
now and then.

 But Vans penis was a little tiger it was. It had this
sweet little bell of a stripe of brown right in the middle of
the stick. And its head had this little slit I had longed to
taste. Bet Ignatius did too. The balls was so tiny you could
almost forget they wuz there even when you wuz holdin on
to them as I was that night in bed when we wuz caught. The
first time for me and Van I repeat in case you forgot, thats a
reportrs job, to tell it like it is, and he was warm and I had
layed against him feelin him bein warm and hearing his
heart beating rapid like a little humminbird wings. I had
been zammin it real close with my eyes and fingers. Just
simply chanted by it. It had a sweet warm milk smell to it.
And I was just gonna nuzzle it with my face. All thrilled and
everything I wuz when that damned priest was over us seein
us squirmin round beneath the sheet. Cold white sheet. Our
little home in other words. Vans penis stood out so straight
and hard and proud. And I had put my lips to his belly
button, blowin on it reel soft, makin Van giggle quiet, and
had my hands round his little curvy butt and rubbin his back
and all and shouldrs and comfortin him. And his body was
willow like thin you know and he had hisself pressed against
me and he was goin for my little longer dick when--it
happened and it was the best and worst night of my life and
I will never forgive myself what I caused Van cause I wuz in
love with him.

 Anyway he was in my arms and we wuz lyin on the
cold ground behind the barn that afternoon real scared and
kinda sick inside and I said as he kissed my left cheek and
made my peach fuz dance that I was gonna leave this
damned country and he pulled away from me like he had
been shocked again. Like somethin could still shock him.
Still scare him. After what we had been thru. After what we
wuz goin to go just a little later. And his eyes started leakin
tears and I put my hands on the sides of his head feelin the
cold autumn of them against the cold autumn of his
dishwater dirty blonde hair which to me was so beautful just
like all of him was so beautful. And I said real sudden like,
no, no, I'll take you with me, I'll never leave you. And he
was so grateful and he nestles in the crook of my arm. Like
a little baby with his da. All sleepy like inside. In the center
of the scare. And I hold him. Lookin up at the sky which is
gray and real full of clouds that look like rain soon. Maybe
it might snow. The cold goes through our little cheap
uniforms. And we try not to talk the high soundin English
cause we hate it all so. Its all a act tho. These gits with their
big dicks between ther legs. They fall into east end and
cockney all the time, butcherin it all up, little bit from this
tony parts then they thro in somethin that only a rent boy
would understand and it places em dead bang.

  All that little fake polite crap in their voices. Its just
stuff they learned from the priests and everythin, you grow
up with it, you speak like it, but it can sure fool ya
sometimes, that and other kinds o stuff while they're half
killin you with their words like knives that lay you open and
their little fishooks and their little cruel things that they do
without a seconds memory of it all bull polite soundin and
all. Those so veddy friendly words they use like old sport
and old bean and toffs and all of that that just makes me
kind of sick in the gullet and you think maybe early on they
might be your friend. You think they like you. But then you
see they wuz just havin you on. Or they dont know what you
are talkin about. Aint aware of how nance they sound their
own selves. And all the yards and yards of that kind of thing
and git away from me Chadwick or git away from me Hoy
you little buggers think you have the right to pal round with
us what goddam cheek you little beggars fuck you.

  I'd like to tie those churpy little voice boxes into
nooses and hang each last one of them with their own la de
da. Well Van and me we got those voices too. And Van has
this little pipin high voice which he hates. We luv western
movies and have been tryin to sound like cowboys tho.
Those brit voices though which Ignatius loves. Ignatius
loved it a whole lot when we wuz standin bare and shamed
in his office. Made Van sound off on catechisms and all the
while the hypo-crit mans big fat brown eyes were lookin at
Vans stiffie so hard and so unblinkin it was like his eyes
were hanging round it like a bonnet strings.  Thout the old
poof was gonna start lickin his chops. Yeah. Go on with
him. Go on with everythin and do your little proper crap
way. But we see whats underneth. But thing is Im goin
away.  Which is why Im writin this down. Which is why Im
writin this quick as I can. Which is why here on a Saturday
when the others are out playin ball, Im in here in my bed
and Im writin a goodbye note and Van don't know it cause
he aint comin with me cause I done got him in trubble afore
and I aint gonna do it again. Cause Im cryin now and I don't
give a hang who sees it or who pops me off the butt with a
towel or laughs in my face bout it. Cryin aint wrong. They
dont got emotons like Van and me do. Theyre born without
them I think. And I dont give a hang whether jesus sees me
cryin, he was here he'd cry too, cause hes like all the others,
they are here but they aint here at all if you know what I
mean.

 I'm runnin away cause everybody runns away. Christ
died on the cross and runs away. And everybody heres
lookin fur him to return and they make these scuses why he
dont come back. How silly ass they sound bout that. Like the
boys make scuses why their das n mams dun run away or
kicked their kids out cause they wuz too much bother and
too much expense. Or da or mam liked their sons a littl too
much if you git me. And the priests run away because they
cant stand this planet and the people and the sins and all and
they pretend they dont have no sins themselves and thats a
runin away.

 And Ignatius and some of the others run away and
pretend they are what they aint and Ignatius would love to
put his face to Vans little button hole in his abdomn and he
would love to kiss the little boy and feel that warm in the
cold damp weather and make hands clap happy and make
smiles where there is a real lack of smilles all over the place
here I can tell you. And Im runnin away cause they done it
that night in the lav. They done it to both of us. Made Van
real clingy. Made him try to git in my bed last night. After
what we been through. After the boys was waitin fur him
and me to make a move. I mean the little guy just gets out of
his bed cross the long room and comes over to me. Real
fearless like he was and gets in bed. I tryed to get him to go
back to his cot. Too late tho. I even got angry at him. Cry,
whyd I do that? And somebody turned on the lights. And I
aint gonna say what happen next becase I caint and it was
just the most awfulest thing alive on this planet.

 So what Im gonna do is go to merica. Cause I seen
movies and on tv, westerns where there are cowboys and
lots of wide open space and you can live on your own terms
and not have nobody round you less you want it and the
skies seem so big in Californea even on a small tv set, they
seem so big and the sun is reel bright and you can just lean
back and lie on the praree and you can watch clouds and you
can watch the sky and no body can make you clean
everything in site with that polish that has this monia in it
and this lemmen smell that makes it all the worse. And you
don't have to do nuthin but live in a house out by yourself
and ride horses and shoot bad guys and chase indians and
the horses are reel pretty and big and strong. I wonder if Van
would like to ride one sometime. With me. And we could
ride naked. Him right behind me and my butt against his
little cock. And we would have time to just be together in all
that wide openness. Im gonna miss him. Im gonna miss how
he held me that afternoon behind the barn. Im gonna try not
to think of how Ignatius messed it all up that night. Cause he
represents god and what does that say bout god? Cause the
father is just this superior git who thinks he knows everythin
there is to know and Im here to tell you he dont.

 Van aint here no more. Not after the boys found us
in bed. Not after what the boys did. Didn't kick them out by
damn. Just Van. I didnt even git to say bye to him. Me, they
got to stick around, cause the priests have somethin real
"smashin" in store fur me. Whatever it is it aint somethin to
make me happy.  I guess Vans on the streets of London by
now. And I guess I dont want to think bout anythin but how
we had each other a little. Star crossed and all of that.
Lovers from a far. And only got to touch each other some.
And see each other bare, a little, but all that lav stuff and the
Ignatius office cruels, all that kills it dead. Makes it all filthy
and sick. Like it wuz sposed to a course. I managed to thro
up three times this mornin wadnt too hard to do wanted to
thro up on him didnt have the guts so Ignatius told me to lie
in bed today and rest. So Im goin. And I aint comin back
here. I aint comin back to this cold country. And its ice
people. And the snotty things that go on. I aint goin to look
fur Van where he is. Where he was when the cops picked
him up in the first place and he wound up here to begin
with. Him and me never talked bout that. Cept his mentionin
it to me 1nce.

 Im leavin this here note fur anyon who reads it. Like
a note in a bottle. Cast on the wide see. Cause though I aint
good with spellin or spressin myself still and all I aint as
dum as people think or this letter might make me out to be.
You can have reel presive deep thoughts. Don't mean you
dont just cause you aint good sayin them. Im goin to the
docks of Liverpool and Im gonna get on the first boat I see
to anywhere and eventually wind up in Calif. where its
gonna be just a little 1 room school house like in the movies
and some nice lady techer done up in a heavy dress and
button to the muttonchops shirt is gonna be real warm and
kind to me and the other kids and teach us spellin and math
and everythin and theres gonna be a sun to go down and
theres gonna be kids there wholl be nice to me and wont
embrss me and make me stand around bare and laugh at me
and stuff and fake bein some holy as hell sort of whatsit
cause the sun done set on the empire and this is a little
dillwad island in the lantic that aint portant no more and
was mean to other countres like India and Isral and lots of
places in that colonzaton stuff cause I read books--Im smart
that way too-- and I know the truth about how hurt-ful the
brits are and how they dont give a dam bout or feel sorry 1
bit bout two kids who wuz just tryin to be nice to each other.
Cause they wuz just so lonly they wuz bout to die from it.

 Cuz the streets of London are real scary for kids and
caz Van told me that night fur we got caut that my hands
wuz the first that touched him in luve. Now aint that the
saddest thing. Hes this sweet boy who would wanna hurt
him or rejec him and he is so sad and he needs someone and
all his little life me hands r the first ones that touch him in
luve. Makes a fella cry. Makes a fella killin mad. So this is
the end of the thing. Stayed too long as it is writin this.
Cause Im scared to leaf. Scared to go out there on my own.
Been on my own before. Thats why Im scared. Even this
cold drafty headache of a school might seem good in
memries down the road. God what a life. God what a world.
God what a country. I got scars. And Van got scars. Go so
deep nether of us can tell you bout them even if you want to
listen which you dont whoever is readin this. I hope
someone like another priest reds it and nails Ignatius to the
wall with it. I couldnt rat on him. Or on the boys and what
they did to Van and me that final night of ours when he only
came to my bed so brave and so noble like a shinin night.
Cause no oned beleve me. But maybe they beleve me words
on paper then. They make such a show of them and bein so
literte and all that rubbish.

 Maybe the Times will print it or somthin. In their
agonys colum. And somehow or other Van will read it
somehow and hell know I love him and will never forgit
him. So long Van. Probly this is hearts n flowers nuff for
these robuts here. But I wrote it from my heart. Least Van
and me have hearts. Don't recall too many other people Ive
met here can say the same thing bout themselves. Start the
violin music if you gon to. And if you do, there's a lake you
can jump in the middle of.  Take evrybody here in the whole
country down into the lantic with you if youve a mind I aint
gonna stop you. So. A finl kick to the magic kingdom and
im on my way out.

 Don't forgit Jerry Chadwick, Van Hoy. And if you
can furgive him hed sure preciate it. I just keep thinkin bout
that night in the that lav. And that last nite. Find someone
Van. I hope you do. Youre the best, man.

 Your friend,

             Jerry