Date: Tue, 23 Jan 2001 18:36:21 -0000
From: Jamie <virus@dial.pipex.com>
Subject: Chris-and-Jamie  Chapter 21

Same stuff - don't read this is u r underage or u don't like reading stories
of love between two boys.

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Why the fuck did so many sad bastards write books on fucking Beethoven?

It was August, and a week earlier my lecturer at Magdalen had sent me a list
of books that I had to read before the term officially began. So my Mom had
confined me to my room to wade through the mass of books on this composer,
that composer, the history of music, the aesthetics of music, the art of
composing, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. I was so bloody bored!

Unfortunately, Chris had been banned from my room until I had studied for at
least an hour. But the bright side was that it was coming up to fifty
minutes.

`Just another ten minutes to go.' I said out loud.

My inner monologue had depleted somewhat, since I had tried to liven up the
books by speaking them out loud. However, this dramatic technique just
failed to improve the boredom one little bit so I had subsided into silence.

During the somewhat irritating sound of silence, I heard tyre tracks on the
gravel outside. Obviously a car was pulling up to the house. Wondering who
this could be I put down my book and crossed to the window. Pulling aside
the heavy, red curtains I gazed downward to the small courtyard below.

To my surprise Ciaran's Mom got out of the car, and started to crunch her
way to the front door. Upon reaching for the ornate bronze doorbell, which
peeling its tones into the echoing hall, she was let in by Henry. After she
had disappeared, I thought my parents wouldn't mind if I went downstairs to
find out why she had come.

Creeping down my stairs, I tiptoed down the corridor and sat at the head of
the main stairwell, my body obscured to anyone down below by a heavy statue
of one of the previous Dukes of Nottingham.

My eyes wandered down to where our visitor was standing. Dad soon came out
of one of the adjacent rooms and led her into the morning room – the heavy,
oaken door closed behind them.

A hand closed its cold grip on my shoulder and a shrill voice rang in my
ears.

`Lord Sandringham, I don't think you should be spying.' I knew who it was
before I even turned around. Swinging my head I found that I was wrong,
seriously wrong. I had expected Elaine to be standing there tapping her pen
on a meticulously tidy clipboard, instead I was greeted with a sloppy wet
kiss.

`And I thought you were against things like this.' Chris said as he pulled
me to my feet.

I punched him in the arm for making me almost jump out of my skin, and he
laughed at the prospect.

`So you wanna hear what they're saying?' He asked, and the sly grin he
usually wore returned to his face.

`And how do you propose doing that? Secret passages?' I had turned on my
sarcastic streak, unaware that there was any way that we could listen to the
conversation.

He turned and I followed him up the stairs to our room. Once there he closed
and locked the door, barring the outside world from our citadel. Moving to
the intercom that hung on the wall he attached a small device to it and
began to press a few buttons. Suddenly my Dad's voice came over the airways.

`…of course he can stay for a few weeks…'

I will never understand how he did it, Chris is the expert at electronics
not me. All I was told was that if the intercom could be used to broadcast
something one way, why couldn't it be used in the other direction. From our
room we could hear every conversation that went on in the whole house – this
could be interesting. However, I was more interested in the present
conversation between Ciaran's Mom and my Dad, so Chris got no more than a
warm kiss for his technological breakthrough.

The salient points of the conversation ran thus: Ciaran's parents were going
out of town for a second honeymoon and they couldn't take him with them (bit
unromantic, having your 14 year old son hanging around). After trying for
weeks they couldn't get anyone to stay for the whole length of the trip, and
so it was suggested that he stay with us, and we can bring him to school
when it starts again in 2 weeks.

Chris and I looked at each other. Ciaran staying for a few days would have
been fun, but a few weeks! That could seriously interrupt the multiple
makeout sessions that just "happen" to occur when we're alone together. I
wasn't really comfortable that Ciaran, so recently confessed that he was
gay, should be subjected to something like that. Maybe we should put the
sexual side of our relationship on standby for a few weeks? However, that
point was open for discussion later – pillow talk was always much more
constructive in working out problems between Chris and I.

-------------------------------------------------------

The door swung open, creaking only slightly at the hinges, and Ciaran
stepped over the threshold of the Nottingham estate. He was wearing a tight
beige raincoat that covered him from head to foot, with the collar sticking
high above his ears.

As the rain continued to drip off of his oversized hat, I realised that we
should invite him in out of the rain.

`Hey.' The general greeting stemmed from all three of us.

After the uneasy silence, I led Ciaran into the dining room. Laid out for us
was a small spread – a quick lunch. The wooden table was ladened with food.
There was way too much for us all to eat at one sitting. Cold chicken was at
the top of the menu. There was also a selection of Caesar salad, topped with
a delicious dressing, and some fresh fruit, piled high in a bowl. Walking
down the length of the table, I found that there were three places set at
the far end. I took one of the seats on the length, while Ciaran seated
himself opposite me. Chris sat at the head of the table, to my right. With a
glance at the spread we settled down to eat, baffled at the prospect of so
much food for three of us.

The uneasiness soon passed and the conversation roared up into full force.

`So why didn't you want to go with them?' Was the hot topic of the moment.

`I did! No way would I wanna miss out on a 2 week trip to New York. Then
again, I didn't really wanna hear them at it for two weeks either. Second
honeymoon – you know what's gonna be happened…gross!'

We all laughed at this. Ciaran had never been to America, and we all knew
that he was desperate to go. However, what we hadn't been told was that his
parents were actually going to America. Chris and I had both thought that
"out of town" had meant a trip to the midlands, or the Lake District – but
New York?

`So what do you want to do for two weeks?' I asked him gingerly, knowing
that one wrong sentence could bring it out that we had kissed that morning.
I didn't want Chris to know about that – not just yet.

`Well…' He hesitated. `We could always…' A pleading expression came over his
face and I quickly kicked him under the table, so that he didn't embarrass
either himself or me further.

Chris, however, had other ideas and wouldn't stop until he would finish his
sentence. Ciaran looked at me, as if asking permission to continue. I looked
away, ashamed with myself for being so selfish.

`We could always…' He began again. `…just have fun.' He finished the
sentence differently to what he was going to say the first time, and I
looked up in surprise. A warm smile from Ciaran told me that he would wait
until later to suggest anything else. I just didn't know if it would be
right to do anything else. Would it be betraying Chris? Maybe it would be
misleading Ciaran? I was so confused.

Lunch fell apart in disorder. Chris had decided that he wanted some more
chicken and leant over the small bowl of mayonnaise, accidentally placing
his elbow down hard on the spoon embedded into it. This catapulted a heavy
scoop into the air, and down onto Ciaran's face. A terrific food fight
followed, the outcome of which was unclear.

----------------------------------------------------------

`So what did Ciaran really want to say this morning?'

After a long day of playing video games, and horsing around on the mixing
console, we had emerged tired, happy, and with a mix of Grease's "You're the
one that I want" and Beethoven's Ninth Symphony.

Chris and I had shown Ciaran to his room, a single on the floor below us,
and we had retired to our own apartment. I felt sorry for Ciaran, left on
his own, whilst we cuddled together for warmth and comfort.

I looked at Chris after he had uttered these words, stunned that he had even
noticed.

`When this morning?' I asked, trying to get out of it.

He wasn't having any of it, and after making quite plain which conversation
and at which point there was no way that I could get out of it. Not prepared
for this onslaught I turned my head into the pillow and began to cry.

Feeling an arm on my shoulder, I turned to see Chris smiling at me.

`It's okay, Jamie. I'm not angry, I just wanna know what happened.' His
voice was calm and soft. I suddenly felt that I needed to tell him
everything.

I started with how, when Ciaran had come out to me the first time, we had
kissed in the Music Office. Then I went on to tell him what I thought Ciaran
had wanted to say this morning – to ask if we could fool around some. Ending
with my reservations about doing so, I looked up at him, he was propped up
on one shoulder and was still smiling.

`Why the fuck didn't you tell me that before. It would've saved you a lotta
trouble, kid.' Chris brushed off the story with a flick of his psyche and we
settled down to sleep.

As I lay there, clasped in my lover's arms, I started to think again. I
hoped that Chris didn't want to start fooling around with Ciaran. If he did,
I wondered if he'd do it behind my back. Would I lose my boyfriend? I
couldn't have that. However, I couldn't also just turn totally defensive and
jealous towards Ciaran either. Confusing is definitely the word of the month
for me, at this time. There were too many options, but not one of them good
enough to be chosen. I began to roll over the Ryme of the Ancient Mariner in
my head.

		Water, water, everywhere,
		And all the boards did shrink;
		Water, water, everywhere,
		Nor any drop to drink.

The lines were certainly appropriate to my predicament. It was as though
Coleridge was writing his poetry all over again, just for me.

Chris had begun to breath more deeply, and I could tell that he was asleep.
Various movements from him gave me comfort until the time that I eventually
dozed off. It must have been way passed 3 am when I finally did close my
heavy eyelids and subject myself to a short period of recharge.

However, in my dreams the thoughts still plagued me. There was Chris, and
Ciaran was next to him. Were they holding hands? Yes, I could clearly see
it. Leaning forward, Chris turned to kiss Ciaran. His hands fled to the back
of Ciaran's head as he pulled him closer, allowing his tongue to explore his
mouth. Was I getting paranoid? These things were starting to happen in my
dreams now.

Try as I might, I could not wake up. The recurring events of Ciaran and
Chris kissing came back to me, and then subsequently returned. It was now
beginning to become more and more painful to watch. I tried to cry out, but
couldn't. Reaching forward, I forced my fingers to reach out to interject,
but the figures were too distant. Resigning myself to a shameful fate, I
watched as they repeated they're actions, until I was able to regain
consciousness five hours later.

I woke, with the usual relief one has when they experience a nightmare –
that it was not real. I turned to Chris and tried to cuddle up to him, but
he was not there.

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